


Perceptions of Brave

by EffervescentYellow



Category: Glee
Genre: Angst, Blazers, Child Abuse, Coffee, Dalton Academy, Fluff, Gen, Glee - Freeform, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, Show Choir, warblers - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-13
Updated: 2014-05-13
Packaged: 2018-01-24 13:45:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 68,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1607288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EffervescentYellow/pseuds/EffervescentYellow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine believes that he is weak, just air to fill space. Kurt tries to prove him wrong, but when Blaine's past comes back to haunt him, he thinks he lost the only person who said he was brave. With panic attacks to control his days and a family life to harbor his nightmares, Blaine struggles to find a place, or maybe a person, to help him feel safe.</p><p>Lots of Warblers in blazers. Don't judge it by it's first chapter or the summary.</p><p>The story is now complete.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The moment I saw him my old heart crashed into ash and was reborn a fiery phoenix. He walked down the exquisite staircase like he was a king trying to hide the fact that his soul was running with saline tears. As he came closer he gripped his bag tighter as if it would somehow save him if I were to hit him. 

I knew how he felt.

He looked down at me from steps above with those recherché eyes and I felt my face melt like a candle into a comforting, albeit slightly swooning, smile. His chime of a voice asked for my help and I gave him my hand. Kurt was his name, I learned, a sound like a shoe on a stage, The kind of sound that. if possible, would make ears laugh. He gave me a nervous chuckle as I pulled him down the gilded, detailed halls of the great academy. Yes the way we were holding hands was a strain on the arm, but who could care? I was holding his hand. 

I admit that I was being an extremely touchy version of my usually so perfectly composed self, but then again I had never quite met someone like Kurt. I didn't know why I felt so comfortable around this stranger, but I had this feeling that somehow we were meant to meet (I didn't know what I meant by this, but it felt right). I pranced into the commons a bit late, earning a steaming glare from a certain Westley Montgomery, and jumped into position, just in time to sing Teenage Dream, a song which was written by my goddess of the pop industry, Katy Perry. Maybe he knew I was singing to him, the beautiful new boy who stole my heart in all of five minutes, or maybe he just thought I was just extremely energetic, I don't know. I saw him grinning, a sight that made my chest squeeze in a silent squeal, those frightened eyes needed happiness. I looked back at him, giving him the most dazzling grin in my book of dapperness, and watching with proud glee as he enjoyed himself in the crowd of navy, black, and red.

The song ended and I escaped towards him before I could be "officially" reprimanded by the Dalton Academy Warbler's Council. I could not help but brush his shoulder and softly smile as he blushed like sweet candy canes. I let him follow me, refraining myself from latching on once again to his satin-smooth hands, to the library, on the way snatching Wes from his "official" lecture to the club and David from his sporadic break-dancing on the commons floor. The group of three blazer-ed boys, plus one vogue-ish boy made their way to a round table in the studious room. Kurt seating himself protectively on the opposite side of the table from them. I asked Kurt his coffee order, granting me a nicely raised eyebrow from him, as I went off to get coffee. I easily made my medium drip, David's caramel frappe (I always found this a weird order for a man like David...I guess he liked the sugar), and Wes' tall latte. Then I made Kurt's grande non-fat mocha, willing myself to tattoo the name to my brain for future use. I returned to find David and Wes trying to convince Kurt that would not, as he put it "beat him up for spying", maybe I shouldn't have left? No, getting coffee was a good idea, the way his eyes lit up at the kind gesture warmed me right up to the temperature of my cinnamon flavored drink.

"Thank you," he said simply, looking up at me with those eyes of glittering teal space dust.

I sat down across from him, between the other Warblers, and assured him once again that we would not pummel him down into the mahogany floors for "spying". Then he asks a question that has the other boys baffled but me seeing right into his thoughts.

"Are you all gay?" He whispers the last word like if he says it too loud it will echo off the old stone walls out to everyone who will come storming in to take him away.

Wes and David looked for me to answer." No," he shrunk back further at this, "Well I am," now his eyes lit up with a trembling glint of hope, good, "But Wes and David here both have girlfriends." The two blazer bearing boys smiled at this, Wes seriously, David cheekily. David and Wes take over the explanation of the zero-tolerance bullying policy while I watch Kurt's face slowly morph into this look like he could not fathom that such a thing existed. 

"Would you two excuse us for a second?" I questioned. 

They two other Dalton boys politely said goodbye in the gentlemanly Dalton way and left me alone with this lovely boy who flinched at every loud noise and curled in on himself whenever a slightly buff boy happened to pass by.

My heart pounded in morbid remembrance of a time so like his as he told me the tales of his behemoth bully, uncaring faculty, and "friends" that were no help at all. I wanted to help him, to be there for him, but all I could do was tell him that Dalton had scholarships if he could apply, and do this...

"Look, I know we kind of just met, well we did just meet...um, but...I...here. This is my number, you can use it any time if you need it, or even if you just need to talk to someone who has an idea about what you are going through. Just...promise me you will tell me if you ever need anything ok? Anything at all." I handed over my embossed Dalton napkin with my number written on it. He took it with a shaky smile and gave a quiet thanks, I could see in his eyes how much this small gesture meant to him.

I got up even though I wanted to stay here forever just drinking coffee with Kurt "I have to get back to class, I am running out of time before our special Warbler grace period ends...I hope to see you around." I gave him a honey-warm smile.

He wrung his hands in front of hum like an old towel when he stood up. "Um...Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"Um...would you...um...maybe, if you want...." He took a deep breath and then looked up at me with those oceanic orbs. "Would you care to join me for coffee sometime?"

I think I could have fallen over dead right then if I hadn't been still holding onto the chair, I gave him and eye-crinkling grin, "I would love too!" Oh my freaking goodness he had no idea how much I would love to...or did he?

I walked Kurt out to the front entrance of the extensive manor, he waved with an adorable little smile and then he was gone, out of my world like the smoke blown from christmas candles. 

•••

I skipped lightheaded back into the school, my whole spinning with the conflicting emotions of lugubriousness for Kurt's situation that brought up the dark tremors of my own direful past, and absolute giggling, bubbly, tweenage infatuation. I was so lovestruck it wasn't even funny.

Somehow in my fog-headed daze I managed to make it to Pre-AP Physics class, one had to be a senior to take AP, in which my inner nerd appeared and made its fight for future valedictorian, not like that would happen, that spot was reserved for a certain Head Warbler. I sat down at my spot at Lab Table 3, It was quite a lucky spot, it was next to a certain other Warbler with dark-headed curls.

"Hey Thad"

"Hey!" I sat down in my seat just as the bell echoed its commanding sentence to all late boys. "I heard you met some cute guy!"

"Is that seriously what David said, I swear someday I am going to hurt him..." I muttered.

"Well? Was he cute?"

"Oh my god Thad! You're straight!" I squealed as I reached into my copper leather bag for my meticulously done homework."

"Just trying to be supportive.."

"Look, yeah he is freaking gorgeous," Thad smirked in response to this, "But right now he just needs to get ok, alright? He is going through some stuff, kind of like I did before I came here."

"Oh, sorry man, I hope he is ok."

"Me too...and oh my god! STOP COPYING MY HOMEWORK! I swear, how did you even get into Dalton?!"

"Old money, baby"

I snatched my paper back, "Yeah, but you still have to take the entrance exam, how'd you pull that off?"

"The same way I just did that homework....except I cheated on that that Senior...I think his name's Louis? I don't know...red hair...?"

"It doesn't matter! You cheated on the Dalton entrance exam?! If you are smart enough to that you should be able to actually pass the test! Oh my god!"

"Seriously Blaine, stop gaping like you've seen a poltergeist, people are staring."

Just then Dr. Foster walked in, stopping me from throwing a book at Thad's face. I swear that kid is the dumbest human being ever to attend Dalton, and yet at the same time the only person in the history of life to actually SUCCEED at cheating this entrance exam. We spent the next forty-five minutes listening to Dr. Foster drone, well other kids said he droned, personally I found his lessons enamoring, about energy transfers. From then on I had General Athletics, I had no time to actually pursue a real sport, but I refused to take PE, personally I think PE is the worst invention of man, ever. Then I had Pre-AP Spanish 3, AP english, and then at long last Warblers. If You were in the Warblers you had to take the last period class and then stay after school for another hour of extended practice. 

As soon as I entered the room I was bombarded with questions about the "spy". David, Wes, and I had to walk around and explain that "No, he was not spying." and "No, you cannot go beat him up because then I would have to beat you up and then we would all be expelled and there would be no more Warblers." After this apparently complicated matter was settled, we all sat down on the plush leather couches, or behind the council table if one were so lucky, and apparently Thad was so lucky, I never understood that. 

Wes collided his over-polished gavel into the old table, someday I think he will break it, to "officially" start the meeting. We discussed some set lists for awhile and then decided to obsessively practice our cover of Train's Hey Soul Sister until we could, in Wes' words "Get it to where I could hit any one of you in the face and everyone else could make it seem like nothing happened" essentially he wanted it perfect, which, with Wes as Head Warbler, would never happen. So we practiced until our bodies dropped like the energy had been sucked out of us by an over-zealous vacuum, until Wes was as red as a chili pepper, and until practice FINALLY ended. 

As I was shuffling down the now quiet halls toward the dormitories David hopped up to me, grinning in that five-year-old-at-a-theme-park David kind of way.

"So Blainers...did you get Kurt's number? You two would be cute together!"

"You don't even know him," not that I did either but I am the gay guy who would be dating him if someday something like that could happen, not girlfriend-straight David. Too exhausted to argue about my assumed love life I continued, "And even so he is dealing with a lot right now, I should know, he doesn't need a boyfriend right now."

"Already to boyfriends now? Moving fast aren't we Blainey?"

"Shut up David." I put my hand over his smirking face and pushed him teasingly out of the way as I climbed up those same steps where I met that endearing boy just hours earlier. We walked on down more high-class halls, from the front Dalton may look like just a normal fancy building but with all the attached side buildings it was quite an expansive campus. I reached my door, I pulled out the scratched key and began to unlock it when David leaned up against the doorframe like a relaxed prince.

"Look Blaine, in all seriousness," seriousness? I better listen to this, "I know you don't want to come on too fast, and I get that, I think you are making the absolute right decision, but I also think that there is something inside of you that is stopping you from really going for it. Whatever it is? Don't let it define you, ok? Any guy would be lucky to have you."

I looked into David's dark eyes and could see that he meant it, "Thanks man, and by the way, any girl is lucky to have you."

With his old blindingly-energetic cheek back David replied, "I know," and he strutted on down the hall, waving at some of his other friends as he passed by.

I opened the door to my small room, posters of broadway shows, bands, and other various interests were placed above the skinny twin bed, my navy bedspread tucked in neatly to reveal the edges of soft cream sheets. My guitar was leaning precariously against the corner of my inundated desk, and the closet was partly open to reveal two extra uniform sets and a couple of outfits from home (sweaters, bow-ties, pants, v-necks, sweat pants, dress shirts, and a suit, all various colors of a effervescent rainbow). To be honest, this tiny room looked more like home to me than my room at home with everything I left behind. I sat down politely, old habits die hard, on the corner if my bed and gazed out towards the extensive verdant lawn dotted with manicured trees. 

I thought about Kurt, the way his whole self wilted like summer lilies in winter when he mentioned his abuse at school, the way he could turn my heart into love knots with his every motion (and yes, I still barely knew him, but I was infatuated. What can I say?), and I thought about what David said. There was still the rusted remains of a cage imprisoning my soul, scaring me into submission, blocking my dreams with nightmares, stopping me from texting Kurt and inviting him to coffee. I was scared, scared to fail, of imperfection. I was terrified that if I let him in he would just be kidnapped right back out. Yes, there was a part of me that still held on to that terror of my past. Though I knew Kurt didn't need a date until his catastrophe of a high school life was straightened out, I couldn't help but wonder, if I were brave enough, would he accept the help offered to him in the form of likes and loves? Or would he just need a friend. Of course he just needs a friend, I was being ridiculous, and I also knew that I could not be that brave boy. For all my charming ways, I had quite the lightless hurricane of an interior.

Just as I was about to get on a full blown aria of my woes, my phone buzzed on the now wrinkled bed. It was an unknown number but I knew who it was the moment I read it.

Kurt: Hi, this is my number, if you could text me back so I know you got it that would be good. Thank you for today. -Your Endearing Spy

I swear on every prayer to heaven, this boy is just too adorable

Me: I got your number, and don't thank me, it was my pleasure to be in your company

Always start out with manners. It isn't deemed socially acceptable to start rambling about how exactly much it was a pleasure to meet a person in your first text. I let my thoughts stir for a minute, contemplating my words for a moment before typing out a small message

Me: Courage

Oh god, that was stupid. Now he is going to think me cliche and dumb and I just lost my chance-

Kurt: thanks

Oh? Well that was an improvement. He at least didn't run away from your one word hallmark statement. I didn't know if I sent that message to him or to me, but I went with both. We would each need it.

•••

Two days and about twenty-five texts later, Kurt asked if I would join him for coffee at his local coffee shop that Friday, the Lima Bean, apparently Kurt was a Lima native, whatever that meant. I said yes, obviously and the next day, after much panic and overbearing excitement, I was driving out of the mostly full Dalton parking lot, and onto the long journey to see Kurt, it would be worth it though. I had given myself plenty of time in case I got lost, so I arrived at the cafe before Kurt. I didn't have time to change out of my uniform before I came here, so I earned myself a couple of looks when I entered the shop, apparently Lima was lacking in the private school area. I waited patiently by the doorway, opening it for the little ladies club that walked in, but otherwise I just stood there humming until I saw Kurt's Navigator pull up (yes I memorized his car). I waved him over to the door and held it open for him to enter, he blushed. Just like the first time I met him, he looked gorgeous, almost too tight black pants, glorious knee high leather boots the color of rosin, a nice indigo shirt, and a delft blue scarf tied in an intricate braided knot.

Once inside the cocoon of caffeinated air, Kurt gave me a nervous quirk of a smile.

"Hi," he held his clasped hands tightly as he watched me.

I replied back cheerfully, "Hi!"

"Um, why don't you save a table? I'll go get the coffee, what would you like?"

I was not about to let him buy the coffee on our first coffee date...er meeting. "I'll have a Medium Drip with a cinnamon flavored mixer, but I'll pay."

"No you got the coffee last time!" He protested, god he was cute with those puppy eyes, I don't even think he knew he was doing it."

"That was free, there was a coffee machine right outside the library."

"I don't care." He shrugged his shoulders and walked off towards the counter, leaving me to find us a nice little table by the sunlit window. 

Apparently I was going to let him buy coffee.

About five minutes later he returned carrying two cups of coffee, steam rolling off them like moonlit clouds in October.

"One Medium Drip with cinnamon."

"Thank you for paying Kurt."

"Its only fair, I did invite you."

We sat basking in the tepid radiation beaming in through the window as we silently drank our coffee for a few minutes. Both of us enjoying the comfortable silence between us. It was like we were old friends returning from trips apart, both of us with so much to tell but neither wanting to waste the small time together with shallow words.

After awhile though, we figured we should actually start to get to know each other.

"So you are in glee club you mentioned? What part do you sing?" This was a dumb conversation starter but my brain was to muddled by china cream skin and hazelnut toffee hair to actually think.

Kurt blushed and looked down st his hand currently holding the green and brown cardboard cup, he bit his roseate lip before muttering almost ashamedly, "I'm a counter-tenor..."

"What?! Thats amazing! Oh my goodness I would love to hear you sing!" He seemed to jolt up in shock as I said this, his eyebrows shooting up like stars.

"You...you would?" He whispered.

"Yes!" I replied, "I think counter-tenors are exquisite!"

"No one has ever said that before," well that was obvious, "Most people tell me to shut my fairy voice up..."

"So I'm guessing the bullies haven't let up then?"

"In two days?" He scoffed, "No, I mean, Blaine, look at me. I pretty much fit every gay stereotype ever invented, and my girl voice doesn't help."

It came out before I could stop it, this boy seriously made me start opening up like the Mississippi in Spring, "I think your voice is nice." And now I blush.

"No one-"

"Has ever said that to you either? Well, they should." No turning back now.

He seemed to ponder this, his face almost confused, which was understandable seeing as he didn't exactly get support and kind words rushing at him.

"Anyways, I meant what I said about wanting to hear you sing..."

He smiled a bit more at this, those his eyes were still clouded with a swirl of doubt and memories, he fiddled with his now empty cup, "I'll see what I can do."

I chuckled and steered the conversation to lighter subjects, like fashion, which we spent about an hour ranting on, I found I was right, he was a Vogue boy. And, then on to musicals.

"Ok what is your favorite musical?" Kurt asked, leaning questioningly over the faux wood table on his elbows as I lounged as comfortable as one can in a mass-produced chair.

"What's yours?" I asked, being playfully difficult.

"Wicked, duh." He gave this terrible glare face that caused me to burst into laughter.

"Oh, I should have guessed."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh...nothing" and honestly I didn't know what I meant by that, it just seemed so...Kurt.

"Hmm, well what's yours?"

I didn't even pause, "Definitely Lion King."

"What?!" He leaned up in mock horror, "Seriously?"

"What's wrong with Lion King?" I defended, "It has those great costumes and staging and...don't even get me started on the songs...I Just Can't Wait to be King?"

He just shook his head, "I totally had you pegged for a Rogers and Hammerstein kind of guy..."

"Well I will really go with any musical, Lion King just brings out my inner kid, I guess."

We talked for another hour, I watched his face animate into laughs, glares, and blushing petite smiles. I enjoyed every moment. We talked until the sky began to darken like midnight roses and Kurt had to leave. Even though it was Friday, his dad had an early curfew. 

We walked side by side in the dusky parking lot, the cooling air making shivers down our backs after the cozy shop. I walked him to his car and then stopped.

"I really had a wonderful time this evening, Kurt."

He blushed and looked at me through long eyelashes, "Me too."

I wanted to say how much I liked him, how much I wanted to pull him into an embrace and never let go, instead I just said, "See you around then." I turned and walked a few steps away when-

"Blaine?"

I turned back over my shoulder, "I..." He opened and closed his mouth, having plenty to say but no way to say it,"...yeah, see you around..."

I gave him a smile, made sure he got off safely then climbed in my overly nice car and started the long ride back to Dalton.

•••

It was late by the time I returned to the gilded corridors of academia. I managed to get up the stairs and almost to the junior dormitories, when I had to pass by the upper dorm's commons.

"Blaine!" Oh god, it was Thad. I paused and reluctantly stuck my head in the room. Oh, it was Trent too, I wonder what he is doing with Thad? He is probably being absolutely TOO nice, in the way Trent always was, and was the only one who agreed to listen to Thad's garbling monologues about his life. Knowing Thad, those were probably some stupidly random insights on his life. Trent must be a saint.

Thad motioned me into the room full of fireplaces and lounge couches, "Where were you? I stopped by your room earlier and you weren't there!"

"You didn't pick my lock again did you?" I sounded joking, but in reality I was about to panic like a Doe.

"Nah, I learned not to do that when you kicked my knee in freshman year," oh...right, "You're lucky I didn't report you," he chided.

Thank god.

"Umm, I was just...you know...out..." That was lame.

This time St. Trent bobbed his innocent head up at me, "Blaine? You never go out."

Right.

"I just went to get some coffee."

"But you love Dalton coffee!" Not after the Lima Bean, Trent. But, you don't need to know that, "And for like six hours? That's a lot of coffee Blaine." Why did this kid have to be so darn sassy and cute?

Thad suddenly shot out of his chair like a bobcat and grabbed my shoulders, "OH MY GOD! You were with that Kurt kid weren't you?!"

"Umm..."

"YES! Yes you were! Haha! I must go tell all the Warblers that our dear Blainers has a man!"

"Oh my god Thad, shut up. We are NOT dating! And none of you, except Wes and David, even know anything about him! How can we even partake in this conversation if you barely know his name?!"

"Blaine is looooooovestruck." Thad cooed.

"Nope, I'm not," biggest lie ever, "Now bye, I'm going to go hide out in my room from you."

With a whine from Thad, and a cheerfully waved, "Bye, Blaine!" from Trent, I was out of the comforting common room and sneaking down the hall towards my room, trying excruciatingly hard not to run into any more prying choir boys.

•••

I arrived in my small room after only one more incident (Jeff tried to have a conversation with me, causing me to sprint off like a manic in the opposite direction, earning a quizzical look from the blonde boy, which I admit to earning) and flopped down on the ungenerous bed. It was then that I noticed I was still wearing my raffish blazer. I rolled out onto the polished floor and sat cross-legged while scouring through my drawers to find a pair of soft pajamas. I got ready for bed in the suite bathroom that I shared with another junior (his name was Simon, he was obsessively neat, mousy, and an outstanding soccer player. I didn't get the mix, but he kept the small room neat and was very gracious so why should I question the kid?) then clambered ungracefully into the bed. I grabbed my book from the tiny nightstand, put my headphones on with my top 40 songs, and didn't relax a bit. My heart pounded a stampede from the adrenaline of this afternoon. Spending four straight hours with one's crush took quite a toll on one's mind. I ebbed in and out of the vortex of slumber, images of his eyes, hair, lips, skin, hands, figure, voice fighting unconsciousness. After many minutes of tossing around, I finally settled down and tried to focus all of my whirling thoughts on listening to the song lyrics reverberating through my ears, until finally, around midnight, my mind succumbed to the dark tendrils pulling me into the abyss of sleep

•••

The weekend passed in an uneventful haze. Kurt and I constantly texted back and forth, mostly menial frippery about the various volcanos of homework with sporadic texts about music or movies here and there (I learned that his favorite movie was The Notebook , this little tidbit made my chest squeeze so hard that I wanted to scream into a pillow).

It wasn't until Monday morning, when I was woken at an ungodly hour by my blaring alarm, that I got a serious text from Kurt.

Kurt: Is it silly of me to be nervous about doing something I have done a thousand times before?

I assumed he was not talking about something as simple as eating breakfast, he meant more that he didn't want to get up at five thirty just to spend the day being pushed into unrelenting metal doors. I knew the feeling all too well.

Me: of what? School?

Kurt: yes...

Me: it's not silly, not when school involves pain

A few moments later I typed what would soon become my signature work.

Me: Courage

I could practically hear his quiet "thanks" ooze out of the phone.

I climbed out of the navy comforter and padded with bare feet over to the bathroom to find it unoccupied. I brushed my teeth, moisturized, and then took out my lifesaving raspberry hair gel and turned my kinky cocoa hair into a jaunty, slick side part. I then pulled out my crisp uniform, stuffed all of my work in my bag, and headed down to a hearty Dalton breakfast.

I walked as a sleep deprived mirage down great staircases and halls until the smell of waffles and coffee wafted out a set of tall double doors. I walked into the cafeteria, a room with gothic wooden ceilings and smooth rotary tables. I found a table currently occupied by Wes, Nick, and St. Trent (the only Warblers who actually had the self discipline to get up at a reasonable hour. The rest all seemed to scramble out of bed, into uniform, and gallop through breakfast with only moments to spare). I set my bag down at a stiff chair and walked off towards the slightly bustling food lines to pick out my waffles (with excessive amounts of syrup) and fruit (pineapple, I don't care if it doesn't go with bread products) and other fresh made delicacies of our friendly kitchen. Plus, of course, I got my coffee. 

I returned to the table at the far side of the large room to find Wes raving about his Pre-Cal homework and Trent nodding along, listening vigorously (Nick seemed extraordinarily concentrated on his fork trying to zone out the Head Warbler's pedagogical rants). I sat down and made faces at Nick until we both caught Wes' eye by disrupting his terribly boring story with out snorting gales of laughter. Nick smiled his award winning smile at Wes, who immediately caved from his speech about polite listening and asked us about our weekends. All three started discussing their weekends, Trent went home as always, Wes worked out glee practices and did piles of homework, and Nick took his girlfriend to a concert in Columbus, beating us all. They then turned and stared at me waiting for my answer, I mumbled something about homework while blushing down at my canary pineapple, they knew that wasn't though.

"And?" Wes interrogated. I didn't provide him with an answer.

"Oh! Oh! Oh!" Trent practically bounced out of his seat with his puppy-like joy, "Blaine went on a daaaate," he continued, stretching out the last word for a dramatic effect. 

"Did he now?" Nick joked, "Well, let's hear about."

"Well it wasn't really a date..." I retorted.

"Was it with our "spy"?" Wes questioned.

"Maybe..." Oh my god why am I friends with any of these people, they have no concept of private lives.

All three boys burst into jubilant laughter, "What did you do?"

"We just had coffee, It's not a big deal."

Nick raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? From that blush attached to your face I would say it was."

"Whatever.." I said, lost to the argument, "I'm just gonna go to class now.." I walked my scraped-clean plate over to the rotating wash and then left the three boys to regale in their own accomplished laughter.

•••

Today Ms. Bennett was wearing that low-cut cream blouse with a necktie and a pencil skirt the color of August. No one ever knew if she was actually a "free living" girl, or if she just liked to dress like one, but for a school with no bullying, she was the running joke between all its young inhabitants. Pretty much every guy flirted with her, either for real (which was exceedingly disturbing) or as a dare or joke, I always hoped for the latter. David was the absolute king at Dalton for charming the soul out of that woman. It started out as a dare between him and Thad to see who could butter her up the most and get a free 100, David won, but now every time David needed to improve his grade, the charm levels were turned on rocket blast. The scary thing was though, that Ms. Bennett always complied (I don't know if she just thought he was adorable and was playing US, or if she was seriously attracted to him). It was in the middle of her class (AP U.S. History, an especially fun class because you got to watch as 30 boys all made fools of themselves flirting with the teacher) that I checked my phone. I had missed one call (because I am a painfully good pupil and my phone was on silent). 

The call was from Kurt.

I had already finished the essay that the other boys were slaving on so I asked permission (without batting my eyes like a lovesick clown) to go to the library. I stepped out into the whisperingly quiet halls and tapped my shined shoes down until I found a slightly secluded alcove. I took out my phone and called my new crush, worry seeping out of my pores like Carbon Monoxide. 

A thin voice answered after a few suspenseful rings, "H-hello?"

"Hi Kurt," I said much more calmly than I felt (was he hurt? lonely? frightened? needed to talk?), "Is everything ok?"

A deep, crackling pause then a wavering voice answered in a false sound of assurance, "I'm fine. Its nothing, I didn't mean to bother you.."

"Kurt, I want you to listen ok? You will never bother me, anytime you need help, just ask. And, you obviously need something otherwise you would not have called."

The answer was a small sniffle.

"Kurt? Are you hurt in any way?"

"N-no I'm fine...I guess..."

"No, I don't think you are. Where are you right now?"

"School," he mumbled miserably.

I don't know what made me say it, but I don't regret it," Do you want me to come there?" I had never even been late to a class in my life, and I was suddenly offering to skip half a day of school.

This boy had infiltrated my mind in the most glorious way.

"No you don't have to skip school for me..." He sounded so self-deprecating in that moment, like no one would ever even consider doing him a favor.

Right there I made up my mind, before I could change it, I walked down two sets of snaking stairs and then a hallway lit with sun-spotted dust, and out to the crowded parking lot towards my black Lincoln, blinding in the unsheltered sun. Throughout this small journey I continued my conversation with the distraught Kurt

"I know I don't have to, but I am going to." My voice held a decisive evenness.

He seemed to have lost all of his strong fight when he replied with a simple," Ok," in a soft voice.

I got the address out of him and told him I would meet him out by the front doors. After questioning again that he was not physically hurt in any way (well not enough to worry about, I knew for proven fact that he was pained somewhere. Bullying gives you a whole new perspective on the term "pain") I told him, "Hold on, I won't be there for a while but I will text you when I arrive, get somewhere safe ok? You just have to last a little while, I'm on my way."

"Ok," came the breathy response (come on Kurt, you can stay calm for just a little more time). 

I drove as fast as I could, while still safe and legal (I couldn't help him if I crashed my car), and worried crevasses into my soul as the lush rural roads passed by like old paintings. I tried to calm myself with the radio, but my mind was already spiraling down, down, down into a dark places with memories of slamming lockers, aching backs, and screams of blood smeared on night lit concrete. I needed him to be ok. He could not go through what I had. I would not stand around and let his life be messed up beyond true repair. I had a chance to help him, I just needed to arrive before he too fell into the abyss of midnight anguish. I still didn't know why I felt so attached, but I guess it had something to do with the fact that he was in a situation quickly escalating towards mine, and I had a chance to help, unlike last time. I had a chance to save a life, the life of a person so ineffable, it twisted my heart and soul into unbreakable diamond knots.

•••

A tirade of air and noise crushed me as I opened the heavy glass doors. The sound of locker doors and the sight of letter jackets seemed to suck all weight from my brain (don't panic, don't panic, don't panic). I tried to concentrate on Kurt, I was here for Kurt, I could not panic now. Sucking in deep yet unbelievably shallow breathes I trembled my way down the hall in a dizzy cloud of past fear. 

God, my life was so not ok. I could barely walk into a building full of strange adolescents without fainting down dead on the gross rubbery floor.

I stopped and leaned back against a wall, trying to find some sense of balance, until the raging battle of passing period dwindled down into a few scurrying stragglers left behind in the war. I finally took another shaking breath and remembered who I came for. Walking down the hall once more, I kept my wide eyes open for a slim boy with impeccably coifed hair.

I found him huddled in a small corner by some sickeningly-tan lockers, his usually cherry blossom cheeks paled into a scared oblivion. I immediately calmed, I don't know if it was because he was at least physically ok, or if something about him just planted this little seed in my heart that calmed me when he was there, he gave my mind a place to focus on other than my multitudinous problems.

"Hey.." I managed to breath out, leaning up next to him on the tiled wall. 

He just nodded, looking off into the opposite wall, but unable to focus anywhere. 

"Kurt?"

He bit his strawberry lip and looked down at his black-booted feet. "Sorry to make you drive all the way out here for me..." His voice was small, like he had a tsunami of tears hidden behind that voice, and yet he was just trying to repair the flood gates.

"It's not a problem," and it wasn't, I was beginning to think that I would drive anywhere on this hurling earth to be there for him, "Look, I have a feeling that you won't be very productive today if you stay here, why don't you just go home."

He sounded so ashamed I wanted to knock his bullies flat on their faces into a pile of burning acid, "I-I'm scared to go anywhere.." I knew that he meant more than he was scared to go home or skip school. He was too frightened to even move.

"Come on, it's ok. I've got your back." I sounded so SURE in that moment, I had to keep this promise. Pushing my own fears to the side, the best I could, I led Kurt out back towards the parking lot, him giving me quiet directions the whole way there. 

We almost made it out to the back, we were on a set of chain-bound concrete stairs (this place really was a prison, physically and mentally) when Kurt's legs almost gave out and he nearly cascaded down the stairs like a broken waterfall. He gripped onto the cold metal rail with all his might, tensing his arm like the sun depended on it for light. His mouth was open slightly in a silent gasp and scream, I followed his gaze up to where a large boy in a red and mud jacket was tromping down the stairs, an angry rhino. So this was the bully, I could tell from Kurt's stature that he had crossed a line over locker slams, god I wanted to strangle him, though from his size I had a feeling that rash actions would be quite counter-productive.

Trying to calm the aqua-eyed boy I spoke to him quietly, "Hey, it's gonna be ok, I have your back." Again those words seemed to taunt me, reverberating around me, trying to get me to break that promise like a child breaks his mother's favorite vase.

"Excuse me." Wow. I had been disciplined well, my head was about to implode with the power of haunting memories, and yet I could still sound so serene and inviolable.

"Oh, hey fairy boy, got yourself a little fairy boyfriend?" Kurt stiffened like wrought iron.

"I know what you did." That was a lie and Kurt knew it, but this bully didn't I could see the stems of fear begin to grow out in his iris'.

Suddenly he was on me, almost sending me into a spasm of old dread. I felt rough hands soiling my blazer, tight chain grating my back, and I felt my eyes begin to roll back in the presence of panic (nononono...you promised to have his back. You PROMISED. Don't let the devil steal your devotion.) Then suddenly there was a maniacal yell and the goliath was off me, a screaming Kurt stood there, rigid in his fury.

"Leave him ALONE!" His voiced cracked in such raw desperation, I don't think he realized how exactly much he saved ME in that moment.

"I didn't do anything! You hear?! Nothing! Now, I have to get to class." The bully hissed in scattered assurance.

As soon as he stormed a hurricane down the now empty stairs, Kurt sunk down and put his head in quavering hands.

"Kurt?" I asked carefully, approaching him like one would a kicked filly, "What exactly did he do?"

For a few moments I thought he wouldn't answer, but then he gathered his breath and lifted his head in defiance to the cruel world, salty tracks traversing their way down dimpled cheeks, "Well it started out just as the usual hits and pushed," no one deserves their definition of usual to include physical abuse, "But I was so sick of it that I ran after him and confronted him...we were alone in the locker room..."

I did not like where this was going, my insides began to churn in a sickening beat. I scooted closer to him on the bench, resting our shoulders and arms together. I knew he needed comfort but I didn't want to cross that fine line over to touches that would scare the sweet boy.

I needed to know what happened next, "Kurt, what did he do next?"

"Karofsky," oh the vile creature has a name, "He...he kissed me," his voice broke in a teary whisper, his eyes lay unfocused.

Oh my god, if only he knew. I felt so nauseated I almost had to leave (I had to have his back, I promised).

"Oh Kurt..."

"And, until today, I had never been kissed..." His voice held a false lightness that curled my toes.

That monster.

I think it was in a haze of fury, or maybe just Kurt's persona of mystique, but whatever it was it gave some unknown blast of spirit.

I reached over and took his silky cold hand in my nervous one. I had done this before but it felt so light then, now this action held the weight of a conscious. I looked up into his eyes and then down at his fingers as I brought his hand slowly, giving him time to pull away, up to my cherry chap-sticked lips. I softly pecked his hand feeling Kurt still, his breath pausing in anticipation, and then lowered his hand peacefully back down, placing my own on his shoulder. No words were spoken in that moment, just a tacit look. Then I gave his shoulder a reassuring pat and ruined the moment with words that needed to be said.

"I know now is not the best time to hear it, but you have to tell someone, they need to know, Kurt. You can't do this alone."

He wrung his ice white hands, "I'm not alone, you are here." He stopped my heart.

"I'm not much help..."

Kurt looked straight up into my eyes as his words echoed around my skull, "I think you don't give yourself enough credit, you are more help than you know."

I could tell him, the boy who cased my nightmares away, the exact same thing.

"Just promise me you will tell someone, you said your family is supportive, so tell your mom and dad."

"My mom is dead..." He sounded resigned, it must have been awhile ago then.

"Well tell your dad."

He paused a moment and then spoke, "Thank you for not apologizing."

"Huh?"

"Whenever I tell people that my mom is dead they always apologize like its their fault. I get where they are going but I never like the road they take to get there."

Matching his soft tone I spoke, "Well I sort of know what its like."

He just nodded his head at me, I was glad he didn't interrogate.

"Anyways just, please tell someone Kurt."

"I promise."

His eyes were like the Caribbean in June, masked over by a silver mist, they locked into my own tawny amber ones as he promised his safety.

"Come on," I gestured with my head, "I'll take you wherever you need alright? We can get your car later. I'll drive, if you are comfortable of course."

"Sure, he said sounding tired, as long as you don't mind missing more school..."

"I don't think I would be able to get back in time for much more even if I left now..." He opened his mouth, "And don't you dare apologize for asking my help." I gave him a little smirk, he blushed Spring. 

"Alright," he sighed, "But I'm not ready to go home yet, if you don't mind, and I think I would be sick if I tried to eat anything..."

"I understand, I know a place where we can go.."

"Where's that?"

"If you'll let me," I stood up and offered Kurt my hand, pulling him too up, "I'd like it to be a surprise."

He gave me a little quirk of a grin (I was glad that I could make him smile even after everything), "I think I might like that."

"Ok," I began to lead the way back down the blatant stairs, my eyes wrinkled in a gentle happiness (with the way my life works, one must take their joy where it can be found).


	2. Chapter 2

The mid-October sky taunted us with the thread of frigid gusts and stinging snow. It was a stark harshness that faded into a grey expanse. Many trees had lost their leaves, laying as cracked ribs in the slowly dying body of the Earth. The few trees that still had their blood crimson leaves battled the wind with hopeless fervor as it tried to whisk them all away. 

The passing land was a mirror of the afternoon's emotions.

Kurt had stayed relatively silent on the car ride, I didn't try and start a conversation, it was good to know when silence was a necessity. Halfway between Lima and Westerville was the place I had been scouring for. I had been here a few times before as a kid, but I didn't know what made me remember it in that moment. This park still held much of the fall foliage in all its royal airs, the dappled fires and sun rays of leaves were the blush on the sky's color-dead face. I parked my too nice car in the parking lot, protruding loudly from the mass of family vans. Looking over the polished dashboard one could see motherly women on benches, watching their children with a dove's eye, as they clambered around on the clanging metal playground, or as they wrapped the little ones in an agglomeration of too long scarves and knitted gloves. Kurt too looked out to the scene, seeing that we could have all the privacy we needed and yet the protection that came with the lack of solitude. 

"Is this fine?" I asked timidly, wanting so dearly to improve his perdition of a day.

"I think its lovely."

I was glad to finally do something right, it warmed my soul like frothed hot chocolate.

I got out of the snug car and circled around to open Kurt's door for him, "Always the gentleman, are we?"

"Why of course." I retorted, giving him a small bow to earn a smirk. He pulled his lake-blue scarf tighter around his slim neck. I was glad he was dressed in his coat and boots because the weather was beginning to drop degrees like one drops wet balloons (and also maybe because those jeans were outstanding and that buttoned coat fit his form delightfully). We walked up onto the curb where there I paused. 

"One second..." I began to pull of my shoes and socks, setting them linearly on the concrete, no one here would steal a pair of men's black dress shoes.

Kurt practically screeched, "What are you doing?"

"I don't like socks."

"So? Its like thirty degrees out!"

"Socks are confining, I only wear them so my shoes stay nice, and because people make me." And who cares if its cold, that kind of pain was a numb illusion to me now.

He seemed to have to physically stop himself from ranting about all the things wrong in that statement, instead he went with a restrained, "Just don't get frostbite ok?"

"Alright," I promised giving him a little quirk of the mouth.

"I still think you're ridiculous, just so you know."

I gave him my full on smirk now, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind."

We began to walk towards a bench that was set farther away from the flock of moms and closer to the spattering of painted trees. The stiff grass felt whole under my feet, the cold no more than a forgotten nuisance in nature, I liked feeling the world unguarded by fabric beneath my feet, it gave me a deepened sense of life.

And, I could always use a deepest sense of life.

As we cantered down the field towards the bench I spoke, "You know, I have only known you for a week, and yet I already feel like we have been best friends for life...is that weird?"

Kurt paused and tilted his head, "No...at least I don't think so...I feel the same way. For me it probably has something to do with the fact that I have been quite deprived of friends and that we actually understand generally what the other is going through. I haven't ever had that before, the only other person who has truly ever cared is my dad." I knew exactly what he meant, except instead of my dad I had the Warblers, "And, also, you've kind of been exposed to all my weakest moments..."

"Its not weak." I turned to face him, "Its not weak, I think you are quite strong facing all this how you are."

He just looked down at his hands, so I continued, "I know what you mean about us fitting together, I don't really believe in fate or whatever it is, but I do think that we were sort of meant to meet...does that make sense?"

He was blushing like a sunrise now, "It makes sense, I sort of have that same feeling..."

We walked on until we met the intricately wrought park bench, Kurt sat down gracefully on the left end, leaning on his elbow with his legs crossed, I sat in the middle, my back straight and unwavering in the way that had been drilled into habit. 

"You know," Kurt pondered, "For good friends, I still don't know your full name..."

"Nor I, your's"

"Kurt Hummel," his name was a dance, starting with the light click of dance shoes then rolling off into comfortably warm pirouettes.

"Well Kurt Hummel, I believe I was promised a full name, do you have a middle name?" I joeked.

At this he kind of hunched over and flushed, "On all my documents my name is just Kurt E. Hummel, so I always tell people that my middle name is Elizabeth...that was my mom's name...but, um, I guess I should be honest...my middle name is Evan..."

"Kurt Evan Hummel," the name flipped off my tongue with a tap then a slide, "Its very classy." I smiled over at him, "I like that you honor your mother that way, though, its nice. I am sure that makes her very happy."

"Thank you," he turned even more cotton candy pink, "Though I personally think my real name sounds like a Ken doll..."

I snorted, "Your name sounds like a Ken doll? My name is Blaine. I mean, come on."

"I like the name Blaine, its nice." Once again, my heart swelled with something undeniable.

"I never really liked it...no one else seemed to either...everyone used to tease me about it," again I was being dangerously honest, "They all said it was girly and dumb and ugly..."

"You shouldn't listen to them," he held my gaze seriously, "Making fun of your name is just plain low, its a beautiful name." Again, my heart died.

"Anyways, my full name is Blaine Devon Anderson. I told you it sounds like a Ken doll."

"Well then we can both be Ken dolls, hmm, Mr. Anderson?" Nononono, not Mr. Anderson, that was my father, I did not want to carry that name. That name held that being, and that being held a chasm of unguarded hate. (Kurt doesn't know. He doesn't know and he can't know. Just act calm, like you were always told, don't let it show that you are hurt. Hurt means weak). 

I plastered a smile on my face, "Yes we shall live our lives as plastic toys that give young children false perspectives on beauty." He huffed laughter at this.

Soon though his smile slid off his face like old water, his eyes clouded over with the dark smoke of hurt, "Its hard to think that this whole time Karofsky way gay..."

I could feel my own expression contort, "Its sick, he was persecuting someone for being the same thing as he was just because he was scared and this would redirect the attention from himself.."

"If he had just asked for help, or something, I would have given it..." Kurt's voice was thick with exasperation and disgust.

"If only people worked like that..."

We sat in another silence, my bare feet began to tap out a rhythm on the raspy concrete. Soon after my leg took up its dance I realized what I was doing and stopped, putting my legs straight and rigid. I could hear my mothers scolding voice like a ghost in my cranium, "Blaine stop squirming, its an ugly nervous habit. Nervous habits show that you are timid, being timid shows that you are weak, and we won't have that will we?" I could also hear my five-year-old self apologizing in shame, curling in on myself to try and deter the pushing comments, which only earned me more. 

I think I must have dazed off, locked into dysphoric memories, because Kurt was looking at me quizzically and asking if I was alright, "Blaine? Are you ok? You kind of just froze up there..."

"I'm fine, sorry."

"You don't have to apologize..."

Wait what? No one had ever said that before, I almost froze up again just because those words seemed to penetrate my soul with a great tornado of wonder, "I-right, sor-uh, right, of course..."

He just looked at me funny for a few more seconds, it took ever muscle for me not to fidget under his gaze. He seemed to decide something for himself and then he was the one to change the subject, "So did you see the new Vogue cover?"

"Um...duh" it was quite amazing how quickly we could get back into some perspective of normal life, in a way it was almost frightening.

"...says the boy running around barefoot in dress pants and a blazer, not to mention a TIE," so yeah he doesn't understand, not that I fully do, but I could see how I looked absolutely ridiculous.

I sent him a look, then continues, "ANYWAYS, yes, of course I saw it, that Kiera Knightly story was...wow.."

"And that collection of coats? They were like the outfits of my dreams..."

"I loved the new fall collection, it was outstanding."

We continued like this for awhile discussing the ins and outs of Vogue's October edition, forgetting the woes and strife of the universe for a bit and just enjoying the light company of a friend. It was like my body had been waiting years for this, waiting to relax and be myself (well ok as much of myself as I could safely let free) and who knows? Maybe it had been. 

"Ok, so what is your favorite food? Just in case, you know, I decide to cook something.." Kurt spoke in a sarcastic nonchalance.

"Cooking, eh?"

"Yes, what's your favorite food?"

"That's such a broad subject..."

"Ok, fine," he sighed dramatically, "What's your favorite dessert?"

"What's yours?" I waggled my eyebrows at him, earning a look of mock exasperation.

"Do you always do this?"

"Maybe."

"Ok, FINE, my favorite dessert is toffee pecan sandies with salted caramel frosting."

"That sounds fancy."

"It is." 

"Humble, are we?"

He smirked at this, lounging back on the park bench, "I'm not very good at humble."

"No? Really?" Now it was my turn for dramatics.

"Ok, but SERIOUSLY! What is your favorite dessert?"

"Well that is a ridiculous question, all dessert is delicious."

"Oh my GOD, Blaine! You are such a teenage boy! Just pick!"

I mumbled something about how dessert could not be limited to just one simple dish, and then decided to reply to the outrageous question, "Well...I guess...ice cream..."

"What kind?"

Now what kind? What was this? The CIA? Fine he was getting a terrible answer. I put on a completely stony expression and replied formally, "Cotton Candy."

Kurt practically fell off the bench in his spasm of disgust, "COTTON CANDY?!?! Seriously Blaine? That is the worst flavor EVER!"

I couldn't possibly hold a straight face with him fuming with incomprehension like that and flailing about. My expression broke and soon I was hunched over, a position that was quite normal for me, but for the first time in a while, it was from laughter not fear. My eyes wrinkled, my face turned the color of that horrific ice cream, my chest burned. I couldn't help myself, "Nah, I was just kidding...its actually Bubble Gum."

He actually did jump off the bench this time, "Ok, I take back what I earlier said, THAT is the absolute worst flavor of ice cream!"

That face was priceless, I could not remember when I had last laughed this hard, "Ok, I'm actually serious this time," my voice lilted with the breathy after-burn of giggles, "My favorite flavor is Orange Sherbet."

"Not great, but your first two answers make Orange Sherbet look like an king."

"Happy I could please," I managed to chuckle out, this earned me, what I was beginning to realize was quite a normal expression, Kurt's death glare that could stop any dog in its path. I gave him my infamous puppy eyes, turning my eyes into large pools of melting sugar. He pinked and looked away, being adorably bashful.

So this was the real Kurt.

He was witty in a sarcastic was, snappy in all its meanings, proud to the penny, kind, lovely, adorable, and drop-to-the-ground-and-faint beautiful.

It was such a sharp contrast to the haunted boy I had seen, this boy was free and ALIVE. He looked so handsome with the filtered sun cascading down on him, shadowing his face in all the right places, making his cheekbones strong, his lips like Dorothy's shoes, his eyes like Winter's hidden blue ice, and his hair a shining glory of caramel.

We sat alike, our smiles small, blushes profuse, sound lost to the breathy aftermath of laughter. The silence, like most things, did not last. A tone from Kurt's cell phone caused us both to jump out of our reverie, he apologized quickly and then got up from the bench. I was left sitting to watch as he paced around in the grass-dead field, its brown spikes gasping up from the earthy ground. I watched as his face grew from worried to relieved to some kind of complicated potion of both emotions. It was about five minutes later that Kurt hung up, stayed for a second just staring down at the device in his hand, then slowly made his way back over towards me, his face confused in the blocked drab light.

"That was my dad."

That explained the worry.

"...he said that he would have to work late...something about messed up financial documents that he had to redo...I didn't think my dad did finances..."

That was the confusion.

"So I won't be able to talk to him tonight..."

Ah, there was that last expression.

"Ok, so just tell him first thing in the morning then? You shouldn't go to school until something is worked out..."

"I'll try...but usually he sleeps in if he has to work late..."

I sighed, "Kurt, given the circumstances, I think he would be quite glad if you woke him up."

"He needs his sleep..."

I was going to have to be solid, "He needs you to be safe. Kurt, school isn't safe for you anymore. Actually it hasn't been safe for quite awhile. Your dad needs to know what is going on so he can help before anything else drastic happens. You experienced today, and if you keep letting the bullies do this to you it will only keep escalating. Kurt, for your own sake, PLEASE tell your father."

He sat there wringing his hands, his silvery eyes avoiding my gold, "I'll-I'll talk to him..."

"Thank you."

"I-I guess I should get back home..."

"Alright," I helped him up and then stuffed my hands in my pockets as I escorted him back to the car.

I reached the concrete curb and sat down, pulling on my confining socks and shoes so polished they could be the moon.

"So you can drive with shoes but not walk around with them at cold parks?" Kurt smirked down at me.

I returned his gaze with a pedagogical one, "You're not supposed to drive barefoot."

Another look, "You're also not supposed to walk around in almost-freezing weather barefoot."

"Touché," I finished tying my colorless shoelaces then stood up to open Kurt's door for him, earning me a rosy flush (holy freak he was cute when he blushed), and then I continued on to the driver's seat to drive on towards the sinister place where Kurt's nightmares took flight.

•••

We arrived at the school parking lot about an hour after school had released, I pulled around back to the almost empty parking lot, all that remained were the cars of athletes and a few teachers. I quickly picked out Kurt's Navigator from the scattered automobiles, and I pulled up beside it to drop Kurt off. Before he could exit though, I stopped him.

"Tell your dad for me ok? And, promise me you will call or text anytime you need ANYTHING, I may not be able to answer right away because of school and everything but I promise to get back to you."

"Thank you Blaine, no one has-I-I really appreciate-just thanks..." He trailed off. 

No one has ever done that for me before. 

I know Kurt, I know.

I just gave him a nod, staring down at the steering wheel and then back up, "You sure you're ok driving?"

"I'm fine Blaine, thank you for today, I don't think you realize how much you help." No you are not fine. Yes I can realize, I have a whole flock of blazer-wearing songbirds to look after me, you only have one.

"You're very welcome, see ya' around then Kurt." I waited for him to pull out and away, making sure no creature ambushed him in the school parking lot, before I too pulled away and off towards Westerville.

•••

The world had dimmed into a charismatic rainbow of sunlight by the time I pulled up to the expansive majesty of Dalton Academy. I creaked through the thick oak doors and somehow managed to make it all the way up into my room without running into a concerned, or maybe hyper, Warbler. Closing myself into my dorm, I leaned against the door and dropped my patent leather bag to the ground. Today was exhausting, old memories dug out of their dusty attic boxes, new friendships blooming out into confidence. 

I would not sleep well tonight.

I pulled off my shoes, blazer, and tie until I was pacing around in an ironed white shirt and charcoal-dust pants. My Dalton-issued lacy cream curtains flowed in the breeze as I opened the castle-pained window to let in the cold. Cold would maybe keep the monsters away, just numb them into submission. I circled the wood paneled walls a few times before I decided that I could call Jeff for any work I missed, out of all the Warblers he was the only one that would not blab about my escapades, he was quiet like that. 

Jeff showed up a while later, "We missed you at practice today Blaine, Wes was so mad we though he might break his gavel. He kept shouting something about teamwork and responsibility...I don't really know...anyways, here are the pages you need to read and then here is the project from physics, you got assigned Corbin as your parter."

"Thank you so much Jeff, and sorry about practice..."

"Nah, its cool, we've all missed some, Wes was just being Wes, all of us were glad for the break." He gave me his crooked smile and then left the room, never once questioning my whereabouts.

Thank the Lord for Good Ol' Jeff.

I sat down at the organized desk and dove into catching up on homework, only stopping to occasionally text Kurt and to be spammed with texts from Wes. By the time I was climbing into the softly sheeted bed, in my striped pajama pants and T-shirt, the sky outside was the soul of a demon, dark to the degree where the only light reflected off windows. The small distorted squares of light from the boy's rooms were the demon's eyes, staring through me to the broken part inside that was patched but with wide stitches. I could feel my numb-cold body begin to quake, sounds seemed to go out like lost radio signals, my world slowly began to darken, darken, darken...until the only sounds were screams and whispers of boiling disgust. Until the only sights were darkness with haunting flashes of past visions. I couldn't breathe, think, make noise. Panic had set, and it didn't plan on leaving until the last inch of my sanity had been ripped out like my old heart.

Tonight though, instead of seeing the dreams from my own scarred eyes, I saw an anguished boy lying in my place. 

A pale boy, taller than I.

•••

I awoke to a tirade of burning bones from a night of stiff contortion. Today was not going to be fun. The light glared angrily in through the still-open window, I stumbled out of bed in a squinted fog to go and close it. The room seemed too small and way too large all at the same time. I figured that this is what a hangover would feel like, but mine was a hangover of panic and nightmare. I quickly washed my face, made my rumpled bed, and stuffed on my blazer. I made sure, with shaking hands, that my hair was gelled to an acceptable degree before walking in a haze downstairs. It was like my head was no longer a part of my body, everything I did seemed as if from a distance, everything was too loud, bright, busy.

It was almost a normal feeling.

I really must have looked atrocious, and obvious, because when I walked into the cafeteria, Wes jumped up to tackle me with an "official" reprimand, saw my face, mumbled something about showing up to practice, and the sat back down, slumped, yet somehow still dignified. They kept the conversation light for my sake, but I could feel their nervous glances when all I ate was half a bowl of applesauce. Actually, I didn't really eat that much, I more just twirled my spoon around in it while watching the cinnamon swirl into the apple-y mush. It was nauseating.

•••

The rest of the day seemed to pass in a whirl of psychedelic colors. I did all my work perfectly, answered all questions asked in my direction, and nodded and smiled when necessary. Inside I just wanted to sleep and not think, neither of which I could do. It was not until right after lunch (which I spent saying no more than required and only nibbling on a few soup crackers) that I almost had another paralyzing panic attack. It was in the middle of Physics that I got a note to go to the office. I almost shut down.

They knew about yesterday.

Of course they knew!

Nononono.

Dad would find out. He would find out. He would find out.

"Blaine? Blaine!" Someone was whispering urgently in my ear, "Blaine? Do you need me to take you to the nurse?" I snapped out of my little world. It was Thad, and his face was serious. Everyone else had moved onto the notes, but Thad had noticed my sweaty hands and dead-white face.

"N-no I'm ok. Sorry, got distracted." I could tell that he saw right through the lucid lie, but he let me go anyways.

I grabbed my wood-brown bag and hurried out of the classroom, my vulnerable head ducked lower than usual. I managed to get to the attendance office somehow, and opened the tall door with the fogged glass.

"Hello Mr. Anderson," Oh god, this was not the time to hear that name. The secretary had yet to turn and look at me past a glance, finishing up something on the computer.

Then she turned around and spoke, "I never thought you would be one to skip class."

"I'm not."

"Apparently you are."

Good point.

"I-um...yeah, sorry..."

She raised a waxed eyebrow at this, "Well it pays off being a good student Mr. Anderson, seeing as this is the first mark EVER for absence on your very clean record, you will not receive detention, only a call to your house."

Not home, not home, not home. I'll take as many detentions as she wants, just don't let her call home.

Wait, dad won't be home for another four weeks...I could run home and delete the message! Not this weekend, I have that project....but next weekend! 

It was scary the lengths I would go to stop my father from knowing of my errs. 

She turned back to the glowing screen, "Next time will have worse punishment, understood Mr. Anderson?"

I somehow gathered air to produce syllables, "Yes ma'am."

"Good, you may return to class."

•••

I was just finishing up an English assignment that night, when I got a call from Kurt.

Oh my god, oh my god, I forgot about Kurt telling his father today. I am a terrible, terrible person. Why does he care about me again? Oh right, because I lie to him about my true self and make him think that I am just a happy, lovely gentleman. As I said, I am a terrible, terrible person.

"Hello, Kurt?"

A shaky voice answered, "Hi, Blaine."

"Kurt, are you ok? What happened? Did you tell your dad?"

"I guess, I don't really know, sort of."

"...what?"

"Those were my answers to your questions."

"Um...ok...that was vague," I pointed out.

"Right, um well...so I never got to tell my dad this morning..."

"Kuuuuuurt," I sighed.

"I-well-he was exhausted and...he has had some health issues lately...and I just couldn't bring myself to wake him..."

"Ok...so have you told him tonight?"

"Well...he sort of found out today..." Kurt trailed of here, I waited but was greeted only by fuzzy silence.

"Would you care to elaborate?"

"I went to school today," oh god, "and after third period Karofsky cornered me in the hallway," his voice began jumping octaves, "and he-he-he.." His voice broke.

"Kurt, It'll be ok...."

"He b-began to p-press up against me, and he was grabbing my shoulders so tight...I think I have bruises...and then...." I could tell that he was all out crying now, "He-he threatened to kill me..."

Oh my hod, oh my god, oh my god.

No! No you can't panic! Kurt needs you! Breathe, come on, just in and out, breathe.

"Kurt, I need to know what else happened, ok?" I was desperate.

"I didn't even notice, but we were right by Mr. Shue's room, he's the glee teacher who teaches spanish, and he had just walked out...he heard Karofsky and he started yelling...and then I-I must have fainted, I don't know...Anyways, we had this big meeting with the Principal and Mr. Shue, both Dave Karofsky's father and mine where there. Dave got expelled because Mr. Shue was a witness, and my dad pulled me out of school...I don't know what's gonna happen now, but I'm not-I'm not going back there..." He ended in a haunted whisper that made my very atoms emit worry.

"Kurt...hey, it'll be ok...you're at home, no one can hurt you there, ok? And, your dad knows what's going on now, and he seems like a pretty protective and responsible guy, you'll be ok, I promise." I sounded so sure, and here again was another promise I had to keep.

"Its just...I don't know...."

"I know, its overwhelming, I know, but I promise it'll be ok. I promise, and tell me when you find out what you will be doing in terms of school."

"That might not be for awhile, my dad's wedding is this Saturday so it won't be until after that." Oh right, he had told me briefly about this, his dad met some lady (who had also lost a spouse) at Kurt's school's open house, apparently they have been head-over-heels in love since and were now getting married. Kurt was happy for his dad, Carole (I think that was the lady's name...) was really nice, but she had this son who was a year older than Kurt. He played football, so Kurt wasn't to eager to have him as a brother, but he trusted his dad not to marry a into a family rifled with homophobia.

I decided to lend Kurt an emotional break, "You're planning the wedding right?"

He sort of chuckled at this, I was quite obvious in my intentions of a subject change, "Yes, I am."

"And? How is everything going?"

He let out pent up air and then began a Kurt Hummel rant, "Well it's pretty nice, they let me take charge of everything. My dad just wants a wedding, if it was up to him it would be two minutes long and in a barbeque joint, and Carole told me that while she likes pretty things, she has no eye for design. So I get to be in charge. At this point everything is completely planned out, I have a three-tiered Vanilla Bean wedding cake, complete with buttercream roses, edible pearls, and burgundy, that and cream are the wedding colors, ribbon around the base of each tier. My dad, for the Groom's cake, wanted a chocolate cake shaped like a football or a car or something, but personally I thought that was hideous and tacky, so I got him a triple fudge cake, which is horribly unhealthy, with simple fudge icing, and buttercream edging. The whole room is overflowing with cream ribbons and maroon roses, lots of pearls and things, it's all quite elegant. The only thing I don't approve of is the choice of bridesmaids and groomsmen, of course my new brother, Finn, is Carole's Man of Honor, and I am my dad's Best Man, but the others are all from glee club. Finn wanted them to be from the cheerleading squad and football team but my dad refused on accounts of them hating me, and while that conversation was terribly awkward, I appreciated it. So all that was left were my semi-friends from glee, and they are nice enough so it will be ok, I guess. Finn isn't happy with all these people he doesn't know, but there has to be some bridesmaids and groomsmen."

"...wow"

"I know, sorry, it's just that this wedding has been the only thing I have been excited about in so long..."

"No! No, I think it's wonderful!"

"Oh good," he seemed to let out a breath he had been restraining.

"So may I ask why all the groomsmen and things are high schoolers?"

Kurt snorted, "Apparently both Carole and my dad have no friends..."

"So they are stealing yours?"

"Apparently," we were both chuckling now, "Oh! My dad is back from picking up Chinese food, I have to go, sorry. Thanks again, Blaine, for listening to my rants and woes..." He gave a dry laugh.

"Of course," I switched back to being serious, "Call me anytime. Take care of yourself, ok?"

"I promise that not every phone call we share is going to start with me in tears..." 

"It's fine, I understand."

"Ok...see you around, I guess."

I didn't want to hang up, "See ya'."

I heard the imposing beep, and my world was white silent. I sat there, still as a valley in my burnished desk chair. My collected facade from the phone call began to fizz around the edges, Kurt's quaking voice jumping through my thoughts.

He threatened to kill me.

He threatened to kill me.

He threatened to kill me.

And suddenly I was being cremated. The room was closing in on me, a furnace of panic. I could feel my body begin to pound with heat, shiver tremors of fire, my neck and hands let off steams of perspiration. 

I ran to the window, tripping over practically all my furniture in my frantic rush. I swung out the glass panes with the force of a mad frenzy, grabbing the sill with shaky hands and begging my body not to shut down like a virus infected machine. I gulped in cold air, sticking my head far out of the window to escape the shackles of my dormitory room. I don't know how long I panted there, but eventually the wind began to work its medicine. The cold air washed over me in rivulets of calm, collecting all the adrenalin from my body until there was nothing left but to sink down below the open window and place my throbbing head on my knees.

•••

"Hey Blaine!" His smile made me want to put him in a box and keep him forever.

I greeted that cheesy (yet somehow foxy...) smile, "Morning Nick, did Wes already leave?"

"Something "official" as usual...who knows," he waved carelessly, relaxed, "Was last night better?" 

No, "Yes, it was fine."

"I don't believe you." They really did always hold me up.

"Ok, so it sucked." I admitted exasperatedly. 

"Though so," he grimaced, "Well maybe today will be better? We get to recommend song choices for the Warblers today, not like Wes will approve any of them, but it feels good to try."

"What are you going to recommend?" 

"Bruno Mars' Grenade," he grinned proudly.

"Ooh! That's a good one! I picked E. T."

"Really Blaine? Really? Katy Perry AGAIN?"

"Katy Perry would be my girlfriend if I were straight. And besides, E. T. Is number one on the charts right now."

"I think Teenage Dream was the Council's limit on Katy Perry."

"I don't care."

"Oookay," he warned, then he sat up, "Hey, here comes David and Trent, I'm surprised Trent managed to get David up so early."

"Hey guys!" Trent chirped.

"Hey, yourself," i waved. David had already run off to the food.

"Have a better night?" I loved that they cared, I honestly don't think they even realized what they did for me, it was in their instincts I guess, but I really hated that question.

No point in lying though, "Nope."

"Oh, well tell me if I can help in any way." Dear Trent.

"Thanks, but I really don't think you can any more than you have already."

"We could always try!" Nick cut in.

"Thanks, but seriously, I'll be ok." I reassured them, and myself.

David returned, his plate piled with every unhealthy item the cafeteria offered (I don't know how he was still so skinny), "Was last night good, Blaine?" Oh my god.

"Should I just get up and announce to the school that no, I did not have a good night at all?"

He stopped chewing for a moment, "So I take it you have already been asked that question..."

"Yup."

"Oh, well, maybe some more syrup will make the day better?" At that, David grabbed the syrup bottle from the middle of the table and drowned my toast in its sticky embrace.

"Um...thanks?"

"Your Welcome!"

Breakfast from there was an interesting affair...

•••

Kurt: So my dad found out about Dalton.

Me: Oh?

Kurt: Yeah, there is this guy in glee, Puck, who is also in football, and in the locker room he was joking about how "Hummel went over to that fairy school to check out some dudes" which by the way, I did not, and my soon-to-be step-brother, Finn overheard him. So last night when Carole and he were over for dinner, he asked me if I had really visited the "Garglers" (that is McKinley's new name for the Warblers, it's a long story) and then my dad overheard that and asked me about it. So essentially my dad learned all about how I skipped school to visit Dalton, and I mentioned you in there somewhere, so now he also knows all about our coffee trip. I didn't mention Tuesday's trip though. 

Me: I think that is the longest text I have ever received in my life.

Kurt: I tend to ramble in any form available. 

Me: So what did your dad think?

Kurt: Seeing as Carole and he have spent the past hour browsing the website, I think they are interested.

Me: That's wonderful!

Me: Oh, sorry! I didn't even ask if you wanted to come here! I know you don't want McKinley but for all I know you could want another school or homeschooling or...god, Kurt, you're infectious, now I'm rambling...

Kurt: Blaine, if I were homeschooled I would die from social malnutrition, it would drain the last meager drops of my social life right out of me. And, of course I want to go to Dalton! It is everything I wish McKinley was.

Me: Good, I didn't just want to assume though...

Me: I hope you come to Dalton.

Me: Sorry, that was selfish.

Kurt: I hope I come to Dalton, too.

Me: Ok

Kurt: Goodnight

Me: Night, Kurt

I set my phone down on my spindly nightstand and pulled my soft blankets up to my nose.

I slept dreamlessly that night, my mind as peaceful as it could be right then.

It was intoxicating. 

•••

Wes clanged his obnoxious gavel down on the lustrous desk, to the snickers of the choir. For the first time in about a week all the Warblers were together, and of course that was partly my fault.

There were the Freshman: Lucien, Tino, Dill, Christopher, Maurice (the only other openly gay Warbler), Henry, and De'Javi

The Sophomores: Jack, Kyung Ju (the South Korean exchange student), Travis, Dennis, Marcello, Darion, and Stephan

The Juniors: Wes, David, Thad, Nick, Jeff, Trent, and me

And the Seniors (none of whom ended up in council seats, which I have yet to understand, but I guess Wes couldn't be refused the gavel...I think we may all regret that now...and David and Thad simply charmed their way in): Geovanni, Anthony (the only Warbler I didn't like, he was exceedingly pretentious), Louie, Dane, Cedric, Mao, and Armando

We all chattered like our fat, lemon birds, filling the room with laughter and jokes, ignoring Wes and his wooden toy (he would hit you over the head with that very toy if he ever heard you refer to it as one), only the freshmen sat at rapt attention towards the council desk, not daring to join in on the gavel jokes, being still quite intimidated by Wes' seemingly imposing figure. They would find out soon enough though, that he could never stay mad and secretly had a vast heart and wonderful sense of humor (none of us would EVER joke at him if he didn't himself secretly laugh at the jokes). 

"Alright! ALRIGHT!," Wes' face was beginning to turn an unappealing shade of purple, we figured we should actually quite down so he wouldn't have a stroke of stress right then, we really couldn't survive without him, "Today we are going to take song suggestions, we are for sure going to perform Hey, Soul Sister but we still need one other group number. Tryouts for the solo piece will be held next Friday, you may not audition if you have or will receive a solo in one of the group numbers, understood? So that takes Blaine off the table, and whoever is assigned Lead in the piece we choose today. The room is now open for recommendations." He banged his gavel again and then we waited patiently, as each person who wished, stood up and gave their suggestion. It was all done with the impeccable order of Wes' leadership.

There was everything from Guetta and Usher's Without You, to the Beatle's Yellow Submarine (which ended up getting the most votes just to smite Wes, but he quickly vetoed that decision). My own Katy Perry song only got three votes Christopher's because he has a giant crush on Ms. Katy, Geovanni's because he fell asleep during the discussion and didn't know what he was voting for, and of course mine. There ended up being a tie between Grenade and Guetta and Sia's Titanium. After a loud and raging battle over leather couches and coffee tables (it involved much wrinkling of each other's blazers and threats of salt in sugar shakers at breakfast...that was the epitome of a bad-boy at Dalton) it was decided that we would be singing Titanium. Tryouts for Lead would be held on Monday, not that I could tryout, I already had the Lead for our Train song. The meeting ended with Nick's crushed heart, along with a few others, but an overall air of excitement. Titanium was going to be stuck in my head for the next five months, and I didn't care. 

•••

"So how did the wedding go?" It was a peaceful morning, half of the boys were at home, the other half just now bothering to get up. It was the day after Kurt's family size doubled. 

"Everything I planned worked out perfectly, which was incredible, and my dad was ecstatic the whole time."

"How were the glee kids?"

"They were all pretty nice, distant, but polite."

"And how is the step-brother?"

"Well, we have practically been living together for the past month, but I always thought that eventually he would be mean to me, but so far he hasn't. I mean, he can be quite thick-headed sometimes, but only in a clueless sense. He really is just a giant teddy bear, frightening to look at but warm inside. He actually danced with me a little at the beginning, he was the only one my age who offered. He also promised to look after me, I think he really meant it, and he apologized for all the times he saw his teammates bully me while he did nothing. "

He was lucky to get a brother like that, "Well it sounds like overall it was a pretty good day, and I think I just may approve of this Finn kid."

"It was a pretty good day," I could hear his wry smile over the phone, "And since when does my step-brother need your approval?"

"Since always," I quipped back.

"It was good to see my dad happy like that."

I could practically see the gaping chasms in my own family structure, "Well, congratulations on your new family!"

"Thanks, Blaine," he laughed, "I actually called though to say that my dad is calling your school tomorrow to schedule a tour and information meeting for Wednesday."

"Oh that's WONDERFUL!" I sat up shock straight from where I was lounging on my narrow bed (I only allowed myself to relax when I was alone and safely locked in my room). Elated was too weak a word to describe what I was feeling.

Kurt was probably coming to Dalton!

KURT going to DALTON!

"Someone sounds excited," I could imagine his eyebrow up in a smirking giggle.

We continued on babbling about our lives, and the dumb things Finn has done, until the grandfather clock at the end of the varnished corridor chimed eleven, and I figured that I should get going with my life.


	3. Chapter 3

Monday dawned with the promise of excitement.

Solo tryouts.

All of the Junior Warblers managed to scrape themselves off their cotton sheets and arrive to breakfast with actual time to spare. The whole school seemed to buzz like an open socket. Which was outrageous because most Monday breakfasts involved only the arias of complaints croaked out in sleep deprived moans. The cafeteria ladies seemed overwhelmed by the new disposition of their usually weary-eyed occupants. They served their eggs and toast with almost frightened looks of pure surprise. 

This was all a show of exactly how much the 28 Warblers affected the school personality. If the songbirds were in joyous occasion, so were the schoolboys. 

"Yo! B!" Thad screeched from our oak table.

"Hey Thad."

"Jeff here mentioned something about bringing you make up work, been seeing that spy kid have we?"

"Sorry...I really only mentioned it in passing...." Jeff shrugged bashfully.

"Um..." I didn't really know what to say.

"Yeah! Do you have his number yet?" David whispered it like a thirteen-year-old fangirl would discuss her celebrities new haircut.

"I-um...yeah..." No use lying.

Wes suddenly decided to burst in with his ever-observant comment, "God! Haven't any of you noticed? He texts him ALL THE FREAKING TIME." 

"Oh! So thaaats who he's always texting," Nick whistled, "Coffee aaand texts, lets hire the wedding planner, boys, because Blaine's getting married!"

"Shut up Nick...." God they were impossible, "It's really not that big of a deal."

"It is! It is! You never text any of us! Well, not unless we specifically text you first! This is serious Blaine!" Trent, poor dear, was about to bounce himself right out of that spindly chair. 

"Yeah! This is HUGE!"

"Guys, we have known each other for a week, I am not going to ask him out."

"Well you kind of already did..."

"It wasn't a date!"

"Did you want it to be?" Thad countered.

"I-no, well yeah...I don't know! I don't want anything fast, you know? I like him, but we need to get to know each other better. And, as I already said, at this point he just needs a good friend, not a boyfriend." Because, that is exactly what I once needed, once I found that, I found life.

"Ok, ok, fine, will we ever get to meet him though?" Jeff asked, "It seems unfair that Wes and David are the only ones who got to meet him."

"Yeah! How come I didn't get to meet him? I'm on the council too, you know!" Thad wailed.

"Yes, but unlike Wes and David, you have no boundaries of maturity or self-control. No offense." Nick pointed out wisely.

"David is NOT mature!" 

"Hey! I can be...when necessary!"

"I do not believe that..."

David puffed out his chest, "You should! I can be VERY professional."

"Seriously though, Blaine, when will we get to meet the spy?" Trent interrupted the blooming argument.

"I will tell you if you promise to stop referring to him as "the spy". He has a real name."

"Fine, when will we get to meet Kurt?"

"If everything works out, Wednesday."

"REALLY?"

"Yeah, he should be visiting Dalton on Wednesday to see if he could possibly transfer."

"So he really WASN'T spying!"

"No, he really wasn't, he was checking out the academy."

"I like the spy story better..."

It was only as we were exiting the billowing hall of a cafeteria that conversation took a truly serious bend. I heard the tap of dress shoes on polished wood, increasing in speed as they drew louder.

"Blaine!" We stopped down to my pace as he reached my side.

"Hmm?"

"I-you know we were just, like, playing around, right? We truly respect your decisions."

"Yeah, I do Wes, but thank you, really."

"I mean, yeah we are all happy that you FINALLY HAVE A CRUSH, but I think we would all be wary of you jumping right into a relationship. We all remember how you used to be," talking about his old heart made him uncomfortable, he blushed awkwardly and broke his gaze from the serious glint of Wes' slanted eyes, "We realize that he just needs a friend like you did, someone to talk to. I do also realize that none of US really know him either, we are just making assumptions based on the facts presented. We are all assuming it is in reasonable similarity to your case." he stopped here to let out a very un-Wes-like smirk, "Although I really don't think a GOOD boyfriend would be too bad, I mean comfort come in many ways."

"WESTLY MONTGOMERY!" 

"Just saying.."

"Since when do you "just say" anything?!"

"Right, ok, anyways..." Wes cleared his throat, "We support your decisions fully. Don't mind our immature gimmicks." 

"Ok..."

"Right then, I'm just gonna.. " he gestured off behind his shoulder, "See ya at practice then."

"I-ok..."

Well that was an interesting conversation. God, Wes could be so blatant sometimes.

•••

The mood in the wind had been relatively subdued by the time tryouts actually came. It was like a thunderhead hovered over every head, keeping them in a quiet state until it was time to start. 

The infamous gavel thumped down on the head desk, "Alright, all members trying out for Lead in Titanium, please exit the room and wait in the hall until Thad comes to get you." 

Six members got up in various states of apprehension, and exited the room, Dill, Travis, Nick, Jeff, Geovanni, and Anthony (It was terrible, but I kind of hoped that Anthony would slip in his own greasy personality and fall on his face). The room was left in the wake of nervousness, all of us glued to the council table, waiting for Thad to get permission to bring Dill (auditions always went by order of grade) back into the room. A few minutes later Thad left and two seniors took up their posts at the double doors to let Dill back in. The doors swung open and after a dramatic pause, Warblers loved dramatics, Dill gave his CD to David and then took to the center of the room. Dill sang something by Johnny Cash, which was almost hilarious because Dill was lanky and thin as thread. His deep country melody (none of us could figure out where the freshman found it in him to sing that deep and full) was not quite what we were looking for in Titanium, but it did earn him quite the new status. 

The other auditions went about the same, none of them as surprising, we voted round after round until the only ones left were Nick and Anthony (why again did this kid have to sing so good? He was probably the most egotistic person I had ever met, but god, he had them pipes). It was left after a final, and nerve-wracking-ly close vote, the Anthony would only sing lead in the event that Nick was unable. 

With Nick and I both having solos, and all the council members being Juniors, we were quite the dominating class. At this point it was almost verging on totalitarianism. 

From there we had our first run through of the number. With all eyes glued fixedly on freshly printed sheet music (composed by our own dear council) we sang it through with all screeching chords and off tempo melodies. The first run through was always an adventure. 

We ran around like a freed zoo, jumping on couches, dancing like maniacs. Grinning at each other like boys caught playing in mud. 

This was who I was.

At the beginning of every song there is that slight hesitation, will I make a mistake? Will I sound horrendous? And after that pause I always realize that I am with people who care about me no matter how stupid I may ever sound, because honestly, they are my friends, they are going to sound stupid right along will me. So I let myself join the ruckus of potentially preppy a cappella boys. I let myself catapult onto coffee tables, dance like the world couldn't care. I let myself grin without an underlying frown of worry. 

I sang, I breathed, I was.

•••

Kurt: Spaghetti or panini?

Me: Um...hi...what?

Kurt: Spaghetti or panini?

Me: Spaghetti...as long as it doesn't have tomato sauce...

Kurt: ok

Me: umm...so now can I ask, what?

Kurt: I am home alone for lunch, I didn't know what to make...and I may possibly be hopelessly bored...

Me: oh, well in that case choose whatever you like better

Kurt: nope, spaghetti is happening

Me: ok...

Me: So are you coming to visit Dalton tomorrow?

Kurt: Yup! Maybe I will see you?

Me: I hope so

Kurt: ok : ) so back to lunch...what is wrong with spaghetti sauce?

Me: It so...tomato-y

Kurt: and tomatoes are healthy

Me: so are lots of things, like plain pasta

Kurt: plain pasta is NOT healthy!

Me: well according to the food pyramid I need to eat seven helpings of grain

Kurt: the food period lies

Me: Does it Kurt? Does it?

Kurt: yup

Me: grr...this argument isn't over...but I have to go to class now.

•••

Between the mind-fuddling classes, I kept my eyes in a tracked scan, looking out for a boy with tall hair to match my own Bambi eyes. It was after third period that I spotted him, he was dressed nicely (but then again, when ever was he not?) and held his satchel close to him, he may know that he is safe, but knowing and trusting are different things. There was another man close beside him, obviously his father, who sent looks to every boy who passed by, daring them to even breathe on Kurt. He was obviously not used to high class, not in a bad way, just never exposed, he wore a flannel shirt, loose jeans, and a forest leave baseball cap. Both of their profiles expressed waves of sheer wonder as they glided down the hall, taking in the boys (boys who, at any other school would be cussing and slapping each other on the back) who apologized every time they even bumped one another, and shook each others hand as their way of greeting. I noticed their guide, a senior who I didn't know but recognized from the Dalton band (I think he played euphonium?) who seemed to be leading them on a tour of the campus. Not having much precious time to spare, I raced down the polite hall towards them.

"Hi Kurt!" He jumped at my voice but then eased back down into a pleased smile, I turned to his father and stuck out my hand, "Blaine Anderson, pleased to meet you, sir."

He seemed taken aback by such a show of chivalry, "Hi, Burt Hummel, nice to meet ya too kid," he then paused and thought, "Are you the one who took Kurt out for coffee?"

"Just as friends, sir, but yes, that was me." I didn't feel the need to point out Kurt actually asked ME out to coffee.

"Hmm, alright then," he cleared his throat, "You like Dalton then?"

"I love it, sir, I would love to discuss it with you later if you will be around for lunch? I have to attend class at the moment, sir."

Kurt finally jumped in, "That would be great, we'll meet you then," he gave me a quick smile before dragging his dad off to wherever the senior guide was taking them. 

•••

St. Trent sat towards me, eyes wide, as I squealed into Pre-AP Pre Calculus, "Is he here? Is he? Is he?."

"Yup."

"Ohmygod! Are we gonna meet him?"

"If you promise to behave and contain yourself," I smirked playfully.

"I will I PROMISE!"

I pretended to think about it for a moment, just to watch Trent jump around, "Hmm...I guuueeees I could let him meet all of you..."

"YAY!"

"He'll be around for lunch, I am going to eat with his father and him for awhile, than I can introduce you."

He suddenly subdued and looked at me, confused, "You are going to eat with his...his father?" His voice was gentle, trying to ease me into the realization instead of throwing me overboard into the dark ocean.

I began to process this. I was going to eat with his father, his FATHER. Oh my god, what was I supposed to do...I didn't get much time to panic though, our teacher came in and began discussing our test for that Friday. 

I sort of began this mantra in my mind, forcing my head to stay above the cyclone.

For Kurt. For Kurt. For Kurt.

He was the only person on this earth that could keep me out of panic like that. I could see his eyes, churning with celestial force, luminescent orbs of a nautical landscape. I could see his face, looking at me, listening. I could feel the soft of his hand, meeting my lips in a nervous comfort. 

I could feel the ties of friendship knitting, quicker than I could have ever imagined, into something much more.

"Hey, B, you there?" Thad waved a hand in front of my face, "It's gonna be fine man, if you feel bad, just bring a couple of us over, alright." I could do that, I could have a backup plan. Thank the lord for Trent, I could do this. I had to do this.

It sickened me that my life was buffered by unrelenting panic, that my life was controlled not by what I could do, but what I couldn't. 

I threw myself into graphs and equations, distracting my mind to a point where feeling was lost, only a false confidence remained.

•••

I sat, forcing breathes, plastered with a mannered smile, hands wringing in increasing rhythm under the table.

"So ya said you like Dalton then?" We were seated at a quiet table in the corner of the cafeteria, the senior guide (apparently named Raji) was done with his duties for the day, and left the Hummel's in my anxious care.

"I do, very much, sir."

"And you board here?"

"Yessir, only about ten students live close enough to go home every night, many of us are from the Columbus area."

"Ah, so lots of CEO's and Lawmaker's kids then?"

"Well, yes, but we are not pretentious or anything. We accept anyone, no matter what."

"Even kids on scholarship?"

"Yessir, I know plenty of people on scholarship."

"Alright then." He paused here and seemed to look me over before proceeding, "Do you know anything about the school's policy on bullying?"

"Oh, yes, definitely sir, no one is ever discriminated against here, ever. If there is an incident, the bully is immediately expelled."

He put his next words out very carefully, as he slid clandestinely over towards Kurt, "Has any one ever been abused because...because of their sexual orientation." I almost laughed at that (I contained myself before I became exquisitely rude) Kurt hadn't told him?

"Oh, no sir, I would know, I'm gay." For all my flaws and insecurities, coming out to people really hasn't bothered me in ages.

Mr. Hummel's face morphed into a wide-eyed "O", though I was still essentially petrified, I did breathe a little easier realizing how supportive Kurt's father was, "So no problems, with roommates or anything?" By the look on Kurt's face, I assumed he hadn't even pondered that variable.

"No problems, I have wonderful friends, and my roommate is very supportive. The rooms are also suite style, so there is quite a lot of privacy. No one here will ever discriminate, Mr. Hummel, I assure you."

"Well that is what the principal said, I figure I might as well believe it now, and speaking of the office, I need to go speak to them about some stuff. You staying here, Kurt, or coming." Mr. Hummel rose, and sent Kurt a questioning look.

I interrupted courteously, "If you wouldn't mind, I would love to introduce Kurt to my friends in the Warblers."

"That like Glee?"

"Yessir."

"Alright, that good with you kiddo?" 

Kurt blushed, "Yes, I'll be fine dad."

"I'll escort him back to the main office after lunch, sir."

"They teach classes in manners here, kid?"

"No sir, but we are expected to be polite."

Mr. Hummel chuckled, "Huh..."

With that he gave Kurt a hefty pat on the shoulder, shook my hand again, and the working man made his was out of the cafeteria. I felt my whole demeanor melt from it's stiff ice.

"He sticks out like a sore thumb..." Kurt mumbled.

"No, he just sticks out. Nothing wrong with that."

"I never really got a chance to say much, but it's nice to see you Blaine Devon."

"Careful there," I nudged him playfully, "Don't want to be know always as Kurt Evan do you?"

"Oh...god, no..."

"Haha, so you ready to meet my friends, they have been staring at us for the past half hour anyways."

"Well then, I feel that I should."

We walked over to my usual table, where true to my word, everyone sat their staring fixedly at us, with cheesy grins on their faces.

Jeff found his manners and mind first, "Hi there, you must be Kurt, Blaine has told us all about you. I'm Jeff."

I flushed like a cake in an oven, while Kurt carried an expression of worry. I leaned over to him and whispered quietly, "Nothing major, just about you." And I reddened some more.

Kurt took Jeff's hand in greeting and seemed to relax a bit at my comment, but at the same time stiffen under the new eyes of possible judgement (not that there would be any). 

"Hi, Jeff, it's nice to meet you."

Each Junior Warbler introduced themselves in turn and I took the lead for the remaining, "You remember Wes and David?"

"Ah, yes, I do."

"Nice to see you again Kurt!" David pumped Kurt's hand in excitement, quite the different David than the one Kurt had previously met.

"Hey there, Kurt." Wes was much more subdued.

After everyone knew everyone else, I pulled out a chair for Kurt (While Thad gave me ridiculous lover faces) and then sat down myself.

"So Kurt, do you sing?" Bless St. Trent for his easy conversations.

"I do, actually, at McKinley, which is why I was sort of spying...but not..." He trailed off at the end.

"Will you be auditioning for the Warblers then?" Nick's question was poised more towards Wes than Kurt.

Wes sighed, "As of current we are maxed at our 28 members, we will see what we can do for next semester though, we could change it to 32..."

"It's fine," Kurt waved it away but I could sense his disappointment.

Conversation eased from there, nothing major was discussed and the guys did a wonderful job of including Kurt. Kurt and I left lunch a bit early so I could get him back to his father and still be punctual to class. On the way through the exquisite halls, I struck up talk.

"So how is the family and everything?"

"It's...weird, but I think I can learn to like it..."

"And Finn?"

"Well, he's kind of like the brother I always needed. We were at Breadstix the other night and some guys were staring at me and he just glared at them, and they backed off. He's cool about me, though he can be kind of daft sometimes. Like my Dad and Carole are looking for a house for all of us, and we are still going to live in Lima so that Finn can continue at McKinley. Finn didn't know this though, he thought that we were all picking up and heading off for Westerville," Kurt laughs at the memory, "He was practically on his knees begging not to go to boarding school where, as he put it, there were no hot chicks."

"Sounds like a Merit Scholar..." I chuckled.

Kurt sarcasm dripped, "Oh, definitely."

•••

My phone vibrated me out of my doze.

Kurt: I GOT A SCHOLARSHIP TP DALTON!!!

I felt like a disney princess who just reached her happily ever after.

Me: Congratulations!!! So it's official that you're coming then?

Kurt: YES! Sorry for the all caps but I'M SO EXCITED.

Me: You should be! I am too.

Kurt: They even exempted me from the entrance exam "because of the seriousness of the circumstances" and my "exceptional high marks on past standardized tests"

Me: ...you lucky duck...

Kurt: I KNOW : P I'm also arriving Saturday morning to get settled in.

Me: Humble..have you been assigned a roommate yet?

Kurt: No...I hope they aren't to messy...

Me: Well I wouldn't get your hopes up, we are at a boy's school, nice boys, yes, but still boys.

Kurt: Is your roommate messy?

Me: No, I have Simon, he is probably neater than I am, and that is usually very hard to accomplish.

Kurt: Is he, like, cool with you being gay?

Me: Yeah, I mean we don't talk much, both of us keep to our selves mostly, but he is really nice and respectful. Don't worry about it, Kurt, everyone you meet is going to love you.

Kurt: I don't really believe THAT but I'll try not to freak out.

Me: See you Saturday morning then? 

Kurt: of course : )

So now we are into emoticons? I could feel us drawing closer still.

•••

"Blaine, ohmygod, Blaine! Wake up! Wake uuuuup!" Someone was banging on my door with a hyperventilating jack hammer.

What the freak? Make it stop...

Honestly! What time is it anyways?

I rolled over, my head stuffed with the heavy fur of sleep, and tried to look in the blinding glare of my alarm clock. 

4:48

WHAT?

Oh god, it must be important. I could feel the insane adrenaline begin to gather in my head, the waves of panic slowly flash-flooding my eyes.

I stumbled out across the room, yanking open the window as I went, and tried to stop from falling down in the ever tilting vertigo of morning.

Just make the horrible pounding stop.

I threw open the door to reveal a rumpled Wes Montgomery. His shinning night hair stuck up in peaks like a demented lion's mane. He had his cotton t-shirt on and Dalton plaid pants. Something was bad when Wes appeared in his pajamas.

"Wes, what the-"

"Sorry," he launched himself into my room, pacing around it in tightening spirals, "You were the closest room, I didn't want to wake too many people up."

"I think you woke EVERYONE up..." My voice growled with the gravel of darkness.

"It's terrible, so, so terrible. Our reputation is ruined, forever. They are probably going to disband us. Oh god! What if we can't compete? What if we all get expelled? Oh god, oh god, oh-" Westly's voice rose in anxiety. I though I was the one with the panic attacks.

"Wes, what-I don't-it's like 4:00-what is going on!"

"Oh! FREAK! Sorry Blaine! Don't panic, well I mean it's bad but...don't panic...god sorry..."

"WES!"

"Okay, okay. Well Joshua texted me, but my phone was off and I only got the message when my alarm went off-"

"At 4:30?"

"Yeah, I had to study..." My god Wes! "But yeah, Joshua texted that he heard from Yuki, who heard from Davis, who heard from Landon, who heard from Taylor, who saw it happen-"

"Wes! It's TOO early, WHAT HAPPENED!" God I wanted to strangle him.

"Anthony is getting expelled today."

WHAT!

"What?"

"He got in a fight with some freshman, well more like some freshman accidentally took Anthony's tie in the locker room and Anthony started yelling at him and lunged at him. The coach filed it as bullying and sent Anthony to the office. There is no doubt that he is getting expelled today."

Oh my god! The ONE person I really didn't like in this whole school was getting EXPELLED! I really couldn't be happier, ok that is a lie, I really could. Right now though? I was on a ferris wheel of euphoria. 

"Um...so how does this affect me...?"

"Not really YOU, but the Warblers! We are short a member! And our reputation is TARNISHED! There hasn't been a Warbler expelled since 1982."

"You know that?"

"YES! It's so terrible."

"Wes, um..." might as well go for it "could Kurt be the 28th member...?"

"But...he's not a senior..,"

"He would fill in the space though..."

It looked like Wes was about to have another full blown rant, when he just stopped and looked at me. Suddenly all his energy seemed to fall to the floor, he sighed, "I'll talk to the council and see what we can do. If they approve the idea though, he will still have to try out and be voted in."

"Of course."

"Alright."

"Thank you Wes."

"Sure, and um...sorry for waking you up..."

"I'll get over it, " I chuckled, "You might have a hard time winning the whole hall back though."

"Yeah, I wasn't really thinking..."

"It's cool, man, I get it , "Wes nodded and turned to sweep out into the shadowy hallway, "And Wes?"

"Yeah?"

"Try sleeping in sometime."

•••

Warbler practice was a ruckus of crazy boys high on sugar (they had ice cream at lunch today, no one knows why, but I didn't question it. I mean, it's ice cream. It makes the world a better place). With solo tryouts and the gossip and ever improving rumors of Anthony (right now the story was that Anthony pulled out a dragon from his pants pocket and sprayed fire all over the freshman kid, almost burning down the school and killing us all. This kind of thought process id what comes with ice cream at lunchtime) the boys could hardly contain themselves. Anthony did get expelled, he moved out this morning, all of us were too kind and we pretended to be mournful, in reality though, I think we were all having a giant party in our heads.

Wes hit his gavel and raised his voice to try and be heard over the twittering clamor, "Alright, ALRIGHT! We lots a member yesterday to less-than-lovely circumstances, and no Henry, he did not have a dragon. We are now short one valuable member, "snickers ran through the crowd, "He may not have been the epitome of a Dalton character," always trust Wes to put it kindly, "But he was a valuable voice to the ensemble," sad, but true, "Now, Warbler Nick and Warbler Blaine have lost their understudy. The Council and I have concluded that the member with the most experience with solo singing should take the spot. As a senior, and much history of singing solos at competitions, Geovanni will be taking both understudy positions." Wes banged his gavel down with dramatics.

Geovanni was sitting at a table a few cushioned chairs down from me, "Congratulations Geo!" I whisper-yelled down to him. Earning a nod and grin.

"Our last point of business today, before we practice our group numbers, is solo tryouts for sectionals. We will proceed as we did Monday." Another bang of wood on ever-polished wood.

After another long round of tryouts, Sophomore Warbler Marcello won by an avalanche with his upbeat rendition of Lady Gaga's Edge of Glory (it was hard to fathom sometimes that I am in a room full of other Top-40 geeks, I usually feel like the only guy who likes that stuff) to which the Council ACTUALLY APPROVED THE SONG CHOICE! There wouldn't have to be any more voting! It felt so good to just concentrate on practicing for awhile.

 

Life was frighteningly good.


	4. Chapter 4

Light threaded through the wavering cream curtains, reflecting off the floor, and lashing into my eyes.

I bounced out of bed (BOUNCED! I never bounce, I fall out, or scramble out, but never BOUNCE!). Kurt was arriving soon.

Oh wait...how soon...

I turned back around and squinted at my alarm clock, 8:42, I only had 18 minutes before he was supposed to arrive!

What does one wear on a day like this? I tore through my closet, trying things on with tripping speed and ripping them back off in exasperation. After about 8 distraught minutes wasted, I settled on navy cuffed pants, dark oxfords, a white cream dress shit and soft cardigan, and of course, in Blaine Anderson style, I topped it off with a nautical red bowtie. I gelled my hair and moisturized my face before whirling out of my room and down into the slightly bustling cafeteria.

"Woah! Blaine, what's with the running...and the dressing up..." Nick quirked an eyebrow at me. His deep green Abercrombie shirt made his eyes seem ever the brighter.

"Kurt's here, and I didn't set an alarm."

"Well that's a first...here, have a bagel, and calm down."

I grabbed said bagel and started eating it with fervor, as Nick just stood and watched, "Well," I demanded once I quickly finished the bread product, "Are you gonna come help Kurt unpack?" It was sort of a thing at Dalton, everyone helped everyone else set up their dormitory rooms.

"Oh, right, sure." He jumped up and followed me out to the tree lined front drive. The sunlight filtered through the leaves creating a dappled green path out to the street.

A car was down at the far gates, making its way up to the main mansion. It arrived with a loud crunching of gravel, and then stopped. Three people got out. 

The first was Kurt, looking as gorgeous as ever in a navy coat with glistening buttons. A motherly woman came out from the driver's side, her auburn hair reflecting the morning rays. Lastly, a giant seemed to clamber out of the backseat (I swear he was like six feet taller than I am! He freaked me out, like a lot).

"Hi Blaine! And, um, Nick, right?"

"Good to see you."

"Yeah, nice seeing you again Kurt."

"Oh! Hi! And who are the two of you?" Carole (I'm assuming it's Carole...) asked with a kind tilt of her head.

"Blaine Anderson, pleased to meet you."

"I'm Nick, ma'am," We each shook her hand in turn.

"Nice to meet you both," she smiled, "I'm Kurt's step-mom Carole, and this is my son, Finn." The giant gave us a head nod and a crooked smile, he didn't seem like one for pleasantries, so Nick and I just returned his gesture.

Kurt gestured off in the relative direction of the office, "So um, I should go get my room assignment and schedule and stuff..." 

"Oh, of course, I'll come with you, dear." Carole almost walked off before seeming to remember herself, "Um, I just sort of assumed...are you two hear to help Kurt set up? Burt couldn't miss work this morning so we could really use the help but-"

"Ma'am," Nick gave a silly bow, "We are at your service."

Carole chuckled before Kurt and she left off to the front office.

Great now we were left with the scary giant, at least I'm not alone though, Nick would save me. He had better save me. 

"So, um..." I broke the pending awkward silence, "We could just unload everything onto the curb until they get back with the room assignment..."

"Uh, ok sure," Finn nodded over to the trunk.

He clicked the door open. Inside was a mass of boxes and suitcases, packed in up to the top like a house of cards. 

"Wow...that's, that's a lot of stuff..." Nick trailed off, eyes bugging out like a lost goldfish.

"Yeah...apparently he only brought half of his closer..."

"Woah...that's a lot of clothes..."

"Maybe we could start getting out all of his clothes?" I suggested.

By the time we had everything laid out on the sidewalk, Kurt and Carole had returned with papers and keys in tow. 

Nick hopped over to Kurt, "Who's your roommate then?"

"Um," he looked back down at a sheet of paperwork, "A Carver Hanson..."

I couldn't help but let out a little laugh.

This was going to be very entertaining.

Carver, while he was extremely caring, to the point of protection, and hilarious, he was the epitome of a straight guy.

He was about the size of Finn, he was messy, unorganized, reckless, obsessed with any and every sport, and was ALWAYS hitting on the ladies.

"Um...is there something wrong with Carver...?" Kurt was beginning to look concerned.

"No, not at all, he has been in like every single one of my English and History classes, he's a great guy, he is just...not exactly what one would consider as being neat..."

"Oh..."

"Yeah..."

"Well?" Finn interjected, "Are we gonna meet this Carver guy or not?"

All five of us somehow managed to juggle everything up to Kurt's room, I stopped by to let Carver know he was here.

I knocked on the antique looking door, "Oh, hey Blaine! Is that new roommate guy here? They told me he was coming this morning, I actually got dressed and stuff for him..."

"Yeah, we just got his suitcases in."

"Ok! Cool! I'll be over there in a minute!"

Back in Kurt's room everyone was just kind of standing there staring at the Everest of boxes and bags.

"So is there anything I should do?"

"No, Finn, you'll just drop all my stuff and I do NOT trust you with my closet."

"So can I hang up stuff or put the bedding on or something?"

"No! Not the bedding! You'll get it wrinkled!"

Wow, they had been brothers for about a week, and they were already arguing like normal siblings.

"How about I do the bedding." Carole interjected calmly.

"Ok...yeah..."

The door to the suite bathroom flashed open, Carver froze all the chaos.

"Hi! I'm Carver! Which one of you is Kurt?" He was looking between Finn and Kurt trying to decide which hand to shake.

"Hi, I'm Kurt." He got his hand pumped very enthusiastically. Another long round of introductions were made.

"So is there anything I can-oh...wow...that's a lot of clothes...are you like gay or something? That was rude, sorry, but seriously, I don't have a problem with it if you are. I mean Blaine's gay and he's cool and there are like fifteen other gay guys in the school and stuff. Sorry I am just gonna like shut up now..."

"Um...yeah...I'm gay..."

"Oh! Awesome!" Kurt didn't seem to be expecting that response, "You can help me with like what to give girls and what to wear on dates and stuff! This is gonna be great!" And that was Carver for you.

"Um...yeah, sure."

"So! What can I do?"

Kurt seemed to be remembering my comment about Carver's lack of organizational skills, "Um...why don't you and Finn just like carry any heavy stuff and bond or something..."

"Alright! Cool!" Carver gave Finn a hearty fist pump.

Kurt eventually gave in and let Nick and I help in the putting together of his room. I was in charge of setting up his desk while Nick, because he was taller, put everything up on Kurt's shelves and walls. Carole finished the bed and convinced a reluctant Kurt to let her set up the bathroom, while Kurt spent the whole time on his wardrobe. Finn and Carver eventually just ended up sitting out in the hall and discussing the manly topics of football and "hot chicks" it was like they had been beat friends for ages, not just met about an hour ago. 

After an exhausting morning spent in a cramped room full of five people moving boxes, we were finally done.

Nick left first, having to go work on some group project, then Carole and Finn said their goodbyes to Kurt, promising to give Burt a hug from Kurt and to see him in two or three weeks, leaving Kurt a little dewey-eyed by the end.

And then there were three.

"Dude, you're brother is AWESOME!" Carver exclaimed punching the air.

"Thanks...?"

"Yeah! I bet you are gonna be like the coolest roommate ever! I'm gonna go get some lunch!" With that he spun out of the room, leaving both of us in a shocked and slightly overwhelmed silence.

In the quiet after the storm, Kurt seemed to deflate, the sudden lack of presence made the quite seem all the softer.

I cleared my throat, "So what does your schedule look like?" It turned out that we had English and Math together, he was also taking French, general Athletics (though he had it a different period), and until he could try out for the Warblers (I had texted him on Thursday to explain the "sad" situation about Anthony) he had Basic Art.

"I can't stand art! I can't paint, or draw, or anything! And I think it's boring to look at!"

"I like some arr..."

"Ugh...I don't, at least I won't have to suffer for long though."

"Yes, you should be able to try out sometime this week."

"Really?! I didn't think it would be THAT soon!"

"Well I mean, you need to learn all the songs and choreography and stuff..."

"Good point."

"Of course, if you would prefer more time in order to prepare, that is fine, too."

"No, this should be fine."

"You sure?" Kurt bobbed his head and smiled.

We spent about another half hour just talking, him on the shimmery maroon comforter on his bed, and I in the desk chair. His room was filled to the brim with pictures of his family and posters of musicals, they covered the walls like an old Dalmatian's spots. The space between the desk and closet was covered with a cream shag rug, and his desk was stashed with numerous amounts of school supplies. 

"So tell me about your friends. I mean, I've met all of them, but I don't really KNOW them."

"Hm...ok. Well, Let's see, Thad is-he's ridiculous. He cheated on the Dalton entrance exam, which pretty much says it all, and he has had like twenty girlfriends in the past three months.

Trent in short is the nicest person you will ever meet, seriously, like EVER meet.

David, he can be mature when needed, you saw him in one of his better moments that first time, but mostly he is just like a five-year-old on a sugar high.

Jeff is amazing. He is always calm, really down-to-earth. He also likes to sleep, a lot.

Nick always does what he says, never procrastinates, and can be bubbly even at six in the morning.

Wes, Wes is-I don't even know. He is a genius. He always tries to be professional. We tease him about it, but he is so good natured. He has a sweet side hidden behind an imposing exterior. I believe that behind all his seriousness he is just a ball of fluff."

"I'm sure Wes would appreciate that last description..."

"It's TRUE!" I retorted.

"They sound great..."

"They are, they really are."

•••

Whenever I saw him, my whole body seemed to constrict, all my emotions boiling over, over, over, until I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing or screaming or both. It was an adrenaline I had never experienced. Like an electrified boa, a friendly boa, not the devilish kind that rested in nightmares, was wrapping itself around my chest and squeezing, trying to clench away the adrenaline instead of it pouring out in a crash of feeling.

It was too early to count as love, too new. Liking has to come before love, and we had only just met in liking.

To be honest, part of the reason I couldn't approach him was because of my own trepidation, my own tempest. There were too many invisible variables, things that could snap at any second.

And yet, nothing had happened in a while had it?

It was all too big, something I wasn't stable enough to consider. For now I would stay in the realm of fierce infatuation. Dreaming in hopes instead of realities.

•••

All of us blended in the great navy and red mosaic of Dalton, we waited for the Council to stop whispering amongst themselves and actually inform us about the situation.

Wes "officially" began the discussion with an unnecessary hit of his gavel, "Alright, today we will be voting on the possible entrance of a new Warbler. If we were to follow tradition, this new spot would only be available to a senior. But, at the request of Warbler Blaine, we are considering letting a Junior transfer student try out. Is anyone against this motion?"

The room was quiet, everyone watching the others, wondering if the code of tradition should be broken, and if we could let Kurt in.

Finally Mao found a sense of reason, "Um...before we decide this Kurt guy's fate, or whatever, shouldn't we actually hear him sing? It would probably be pretty smart. I mean we are having to make up for Anthony, so we need a really strong tenor. If he could successfully hold the position then I don't see why he shouldn't join. But, he needs to actually be heard before any of that can be determined."

The room broke out in harmonies of agreement (Yes! They were giving Kurt a chance!).

Another loud tap, "Alright, it seems that the majority of the choir wants to hear the candidate's audition before they vote, in that case, we will proceed with the usual audition protocol.

I was going to hear Kurt sing!

To be honest, I don't think I had been this energized about anything in a long time. 

I just hoped that the conglomeration would appreciate his countertenor, I knew that we needed a tenor, tenor, but I hoped that this would work out.

To the general population, a countertenor was viewed as weird, unnatural, I hoped that the choir wouldn't agree. But then again, who was I kidding? If someone was going to be different, Dalton was the place to be.

As I waited for the great doors to be opened, I thought back to my own audition.

I was petrified, before that I hadn't really committed myself to anything at Dalton. I walked around in a haze, turning down the numerous kind offers because I couldn't trust that they were real. I stood in front of the 26 boys (I tried out at semester when two freshmen dropped out because of scheduling) and just stared and shook. I had never sung in front of anyone before, saving my voice for the solitude of my bedroom. I sang Tonight, from West Side Story, my voice vibrated in a nervous and uncontrollable vibrato, I had to squeeze my eyes shut to keep from shaking over in a faint. 

And still they took me, I guess they saw the real voice inside of me, the one at that point I didn't even know I possessed. I don't know what I would have done if they hadn't seen inside of me.

The double doors were opened. Kurt stood there like a pale seraph, a seraph sent down from heaven to stop my fears.

He was pressed and shined in his uniform. He hated it, told me on many occasions, but god, he looked so handsome. It made him stand tall, strong, firm,

Endearing.

His light lilt caressed itself through the open room, "Hi, I'm Kurt Hummel," he glanced around, if you watched closely you could see his carefully cut demeanor falter slightly, "I'll be singing Adele's Someone like you."

Adele?

Woah, not expecting that. I expected a broadway ballad or something high and soft, not a wrenching love song.

The music slowly built in the background, and then he was singing.

It was glorious.

His voice carried the high notes with wonder, ending them like Adele with a rough shwa. I watched him with unhindered awe, his face relaxed, upturned as if soaking in sunlight and stars. His voice was sapphires and sandpaper, a whimsical sound that could never be matched.

I had never heard anything more beautiful.

He finished all to quickly for my liking, ducking his head in a bashful smile. The room stayed quiet, only shocked breaths to break the silence. Until there wasn't, it came suddenly, like a earthquake, ceaseless applause, wonder-thrown faces.

Wes composed himself, sort of anyways, ever the appreciator for great music, he had a nonsensical grin pasted across his face, "I-," he laughed breathily, "That was-I mean, the Warblers haven't had a countertenor in YEARS! Um...but ok so, we will give you a notice with the outcome, thank you for auditioning." Wes straightened his tie and looked down at the papers in front of him, a silly attempt at trying to hide his smile. The Head Warbler couldn't be found looking biased after all.

Kurt left with a click of the doors. Wes continued, "Alright, now for the voting...All in favor of allowing Junior Kurt Hummel to become a Warbler." Everyone raised their hand, everyone. Wes broke out into an unabashed grin, and banged his gavel once, "Kurt Hummel will begin as a Warbler Monday. Until he receives his notice, nothing will be said. Anyone caught breaking that rule will receive a Warbler demerit." 

He was in.

My whole life seemed to be taking constant spins for the better.

David stepped in to add an announcement before we began working out chords in Titanium, "As you are all aware, Saturday is halloween. Dalton will be holding it's annual Halloween party and dance along with Crawford Country Day in our Dance hall," yes Dalton has a dance hall, it's magnificent, "Saturday evening. The Warblers will be performing Hey, Soul Sister, seeing as that is our only song that has all the harmonies worked out. Because of this, either Blaine or Geovanni must attend. Also, because of an unfortunate event last year," David smirked while Wes turned beet with outrage, "All Warbler members are banned from wearing costumes, "The sophomore Warblers looking sheepish, sinking down into their various seats. Last year all of them decided to show up as swimsuit models, it didn't go over very well with the school principal. 

•••

I found Kurt later that day. 

"Hey," my voice was breathy from having to run after him down the was, "Today was-it was amazing."

"Really? You think so?"he sounded disbelieving, I wanted to tell him the YES he was breathtaking and that he made it, but I couldn't. I already had one demerit from missing practice, three and I would be on Warbler probation, meaning I couldn't compete in the nearest competition.

"Yes, I know so. Your voice is amazing."

He looked like he was about to make some self-deprecating comment, I stopped him," don't try and demy it, you were fantastic."

"Thanks."

We walked side by side, both of us gripping our satchel straps, steeling pink glances at each other, as we made our way down to dinner.

•••

They say that if you throw a pebble up too high, it'll come straight back down onto your head. Well for the longest time, I couldn't even get my pebble above the unrelenting pull of gravity. But, when I finally did get it up to oxygen, I threw it so high, that when it came back down, it hit like a rusty brick.

It was friday evening, I had just finished chatting with the Junior Warblers and Kurt in the commons about the party the next day. All the straight boys were excited about the prospect of girls (Crawford Country Day and Dalton often shared events like this, both school boards agreeing on "the need to learn and respect the other gender for a future in successful courtship". To the Dalton boys it was simply the easy way to get an adoring girlfriend). Being tired, I tromped down to my room, sinking down into bed only to be jolted back up by my phone ringing.

"Blaine," my father's voice cracked over the line like frozen sandstones rubbed together, "You need to come home, now."

It all came rushing back to me in a gush of steaming air, I didn't know whether to be sick or faint, maybe both.

Three weeks ago the school called my house. I never deleted the message.

How could I forget?

Oh my god. Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod.

Panic flared like burning gasoline.

How could I forget?

Oh right, because I met a boy who has my new heart shackled to his wrist. And he doesn't even know it.

I let the late autumn winds freeze my molecules as I began my death-march packing. Taking things that wouldn't flash, that wouldn't be noticed. Things like a simple dress shirt and slacks. No patterns, no ties.

It was an upside down planet when school held my comfort and home held the blistering formalities.

I changed into a starched, bleached white shirt, crisply pressed raven pants. I could see my face losing color in the mirror, my eyes beginning to look deranged in the way a lost dog's would. I was sweating, begging for numbness to set in, I kicked of my dress shoes and stuffed my socks in them, picking them up and running out the door. The world was lurching dangerously, my breaths verging on hyperventilation, my heart beating too fast with the wrong kind of adrenaline. 

I searched insanely through the hall trying to spot out any Warbler, I found Maurice first, "Maurice-"

"Hi Blaine-oh my god! Are you ok? Should I call a nurse? What-"

"No-look-I'm...I'm fine...tell Wes that Geo is going to have to take my place at the dance alright?"

"Ok, but Blaine-"

"No, sorry, just tell him ok?"

"Ok..." I saw him biting his lip in concern as I tore away.

In the car I was sweating unhealthily, my hands quaking. I felt like my stomach had been braided with copper threads. Feverish, heated, unhinged, I rolled down all the windows, letting the frosty flurries bury their noses into my hands and face. 

I shouldn't driving like this, I could break any second. It was like driving intoxicated, only intoxicated with fear.

I had to make it to Columbus before I was sucked into that deep black hole. Before the world went dark and I went with it.

•••

Twice I stopped the car, just to breath. I managed to make it home without dying. Have you ever tried driving when you felt like you were suffocating? Drowning? Walking into your own grave?

Don't.

It looks shockingly like Dalton, only with lighter brick, and four stories instead of three. One would think that I would find comfort in it, I only found that it contributed to the darkened madness.

I parked in the circle drive, resting my head on the wheel.

Breathe.

I couldn't keep my father waiting, I quaked out of the car, disoriented, sick. Grabbing my meager belongings, I marched up the hill, back tall, shoulders straight, head on point. I rang the bell before unlocking the door, they wanted warning. I wanted to run away and hide. 

My pack was set at the base of the stairs, my feet burned in the slick shoes.

"You're here."

My back jerked straight, feet together, I stood at rapt attention, trying with everything I possessed not to tremble now, "Y-yes Sir."

"Look at me when I talk to you." His voice was eerie, it was seething with hatred, yet coldly monotone.

I focused my eyes, looking, but trying not to see, "Yessir," I whispered in dread.

"Your mother has a headache, don't disturb her." It was a warning, no matter what comes next, act put together.

"Yessir." 

I hadn't moved from the entryway, he blocked my path out. I was barely in the house, yet already cornered.

"I got a call from school. You skipped class. Why? Don't make up a stupid excuse." Still no emotion.

My voice came out quiet, sickeningly resigned, "I don't have a reason that is acceptable."

"That's what I thought. You are useless."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"The only reason you are still my son is because if you weren't, it would cause a scandal. I can't afford scandal. Don't ruin my reputation."

That's what everything in our family was about. 

Reputation.

If the whole world knew I was gay, it would ruin his reputation.

If I got bad marks, it could affect his reputation.

If I strayed a centimeter over the line, messed up even once, I could ruin his reputation.

"I'm sorry, sir, it won't happen again."

My phone had to ring.

"Who is that?"

"I don't know, sir."

"Tell me."

"I don't know, sir!"

He yanked my bag off the stairs and threw it to the ground. Ripping open the zipper and pouring out it's contents until he found the beeping device.

"It's from a boy, asking if you are ok."

"I-"

"Who is Wes?"

"He-he's a boy at school."

"Why does he care?"

Why shouldn't he?

"I don't know, sir."

"You're giving out your number to boys? I didn't send you to Dalton to harbor improper thoughts. I thought it might help cure you with their influence."

"He's not gay."

"But you still are? And now you are preying on other boys?"

"No sir." I was slowly sinking in on myself, breaths came shorter, hands vibrated faster.

"Then why does he have your number?"

"He's a friend." Wrong answer, wrong answer.

My father's face twisted in rage, "A friend?"

"Yessir."

Then it came, like a star's death. It seemed so far, yet was unbelievably close. 

It hit me across the face, spinning my head lopsided. I stayed like that, looking down, waiting for the slap that would pin it the other way.

At least there wouldn't be many. Many hits at least, worse things would come, but one like me had to take life in stumbles, not strides.

"You will have no friends. You deserve no friends. Until you are a man yourself, you will not associate with men."

"I am still a man."

"No. You are gay."

I had listened to this so many times, it shouldn't sting anymore, but god it did.

"I'm sorry that I can't be who you wish."

"Look at you. You are disgusting, an abomination on the world. People like you shouldn't be allowed to breath, the more you do the sicker we all are likely to become. Someday this is going to affect my position in society, and when it does, you are going to wish that you never came into this world."

When I am around you I already do. I can't control being born, I can't control being gay, but I also can't control my father. So I stood there and took the abuse, took the next slap, the one that pooled blood in my mouth, a flash-flood of life dripping down between my teeth.

I took it when I had my shirt ripped off, my arms spread out straight like a T.

I took it when he unlatched his belt and whipped me. Over and over and over.

Whipped me like a master used to whip his slave.

Hit me until the blood vessels burst, until the valentine-colored welts would become thick scars to join my other brands.

I took it when he told me that I deserved to die. That I was a thing, not a person. That every right I had was undeserved.

When my arms gave out and my legs threatened to fall off like a lepers, my father pinned me to the unwavering floor and hit my legs. The leather made a sound like a devils scream as it cracked down, gnawing it's way deeper into the flesh.

I felt the heat pool out of me as blood. Life slowly graying, threatening to leave me.

And then he was off.

On the brink of harrowing consciousness, he handed me a towel, telling me that if one drop of blood was left by the time I left, that I would be coming back here the next weekend.

My mind left me as I lay sprawled on the entryway floor, spread out like an old doll who had had it's cotton torn out.


	5. Chapter 5

Uranium exploded from the base of my skull down to my bruised heels. 

Fifteen strokes of hard leather to my already crooked back, and ten on the backs of my once twisted legs, and by no means was this the worst it had ever been.

This was good.

It was not as much the sheer force of the blinding pain that darkened my world, but more the panic seeping like old syrup from the unbearable heat inside me. It must have been hours later, the sky had left its dusty stage and had plummeted down into darker shades. With my cheek cut into the revolting floor, time was no longer measured by standard increments, but more the space between wheezing breaths. 

The blood from my mouth and from the broken scars from long ago clung to everything, acting as mortar between my wretched body and the floor.

I could get up. I had to get up. I was tired, yes, unbearably so, but laying stripped of my shirt and my pride at the base of the stairs was in no way an option. 

Slowly, stopping for balance and to try and calm the rushing vertigo, I made it up standing, albeit hobbled on the railing, unable to move an inch. Slowly, shuddering with every stretch of the marks, old and new, I scrubbed the floor. Reddening my knees and screwing my teeth to get the caked crimson of the floor. Like a captive I cleaned, and moaned under my breath, everything being too late, too hot, too dreadful. 

In the hall mirror I saw my reflection, a mix between the Phantom of the Opera, and the Hunchback of Notre Dame, deranged, rejected, neglected. Eyes like a boy's whi had been locked up in an insane asylum innocent, only now he became what he had wrongly been locked up for. With a screaming head I gathered my strewn things, too far gone to ponder over a broken phone and a torn bag, giving myself steps to take. Steps to take in their own time.

Get your things.

No, you can do this, keep moving.

Don't think, just go.

Up a step. Now another. Now another.

Almost up the stairs Blaine, don't collapse now.

Now down the hall. Keep moving, down, down, open the door.

Collapse.

•••

You could tell where the sharpened buckle cut into my back.

You could see exactly where the leather whirled through the air and cracked down on its edge, that same edge marking deeper, deeper lines.

You could see the faint outline of a grown hand that had rocketed off my face.

You could see in my eyes exactly where the words hit.

Reputation, why no one would ever know these things I saw.

An abusive father could not be one of Ohio's Supreme Court Justices.

Which is exactly why my father hit where no one could ever see.

He never hit me more than a few times anywhere that could show. Never enough to let the outside world know what kind of horrors he performed. He hit on my back, my legs, sometimes my upper arms, and sometimes (in the worst of times) on my bare abdomen. And all of those places, no one would see.

In many ways, my father was right.

I was a coward. I was weak. I was undeserving of so many things.

I was a coward because I couldn't stand up for myself, I wasn't brave enough to expose my father, I walked willingly straight into my grave (figuratively and almost literally).

I was weak because I still did what he told me without question. I came here, I cleaned, I stayed as quiet as I could.

I was undeserving because why would I receive such punishment if I were good? 

As morning trickled into mid-morning these thoughts plagued my brain. It was torture because I couldn't pace, couldn't curl up into the panic. No, I had to lay there and convulse with the emotion, only moving to pull open the glass panes and invite the lovely flurries inside. I didn't dare leave my room for the fear of what would be waiting for me on the other side, I stayed locked in the prison of disturbing memories. So many things had happened in this space, so many things that I NEEDED to forget.

It was torture in the way that was outlawed by our constitution. 

I moved when necessary. To use the bathroom, to put new ice on my back, to take another light painkiller, and then late at night, when I was sure my parents were deep in slumber, to gather up some nauseating-yet-much-needed food.

The weekend passed in this type of misery, everything just a distant mirage, and I moving around slowly to try and get back to a sense normal.

•••

Dawn has a mystique that makes me catch my air in wonder. Everything seems to be glazed in a glowing dust, exotic lighting backlights everything in a graying magenta. It feels different than day, different than night. Day comes with constant sound, night comes with close to none, while dawn whispers. Dawn is the end to nightmares, and yet it is not yet hot in daylight.

It is at this time that I gather my things from my room, change into my uniform (making sure that no welt would be seen), and leave. On my way down the stairs I see my mother's head peek out like a mouse from behind her door, she doesn't even blink, she simply sees my face, and shuts the door with a silencing thud. 

By this time, the new marks have become simple red welts, all the ice from over the weekend should keep them from scarring. It is the old whip marks, repeatedly opened up, that have become deep scars, scabbed over and tight. 

As soon as the garnished mansion glanced into view far down the road between the guardian trees, everything hit as a cannon. I hadn't cried in years, it wasn't allowed, it wasn't strong, so I wasn't about to start now. But I wanted to. My father's words ricocheted through my head, warning me that if I ever told anyone what happens to me, that he would be ruined, but I would be ruined worse. I didn't know exactly what he meant, but I didn't plan on ever finding out. So I sucked in my breaths, held my chest flat, shoulders flat, and I walked inside.my heart may be cracking but my face could still hold all the charms of a king.

The sun had barely glanced up past the horizon, the halls still hung heavy with the sounds of sleep. I glided quietly into my room, placing my things away and stashing my ripped pack out of sight. I read stiffly on my bed, trying to keep my mind on quixotic matters instead of perturbing ones. Eventually though I needed stronger medication, music. It would be unkind to wake Simon up with the guitar, and since I didn't plan on joining anyone for breakfast, I made my way to the Junior common room to improvise on the piano. Repeatedly I played measures on the faux-ivory keys, playing until it sounded melodic, and then onto another measure, until I had a whole song engraved into my brain waves. I let the notes wash over me, my fingers soaring in an unhinged muscle memory, drying out the thoughts and leaving me with nothing but the peace of harmonies and the energy ebbing out of my hands. I lost track of the sun's journey through the sky, boys began to wake up and head down to breakfast. Of course, Wes being one of the first up, had to stop and check on me. It was nice but I was not prepared.

"Maurice said you ran out sick. He wouldn't know panic though. Which one was it?" Well that was blunt.

"Um...well...both I guess..."

"You didn't reply to my message. Were you ok? ARE you ok?"

"Sorry, my phone got broken. And yes, I'm fine."

He just looked at me. It was unnerving how far his deep eyes seemed to see inside, he sighed, "You'll never let on will you."

"I'm fine."

"No you're not, I can tell, but I can't do anything until you finally say what's wrong."

"I'm fine."

"Well if you ever decide that you're not, we're all here."

"I know, thank you, you all do enough already."

"No, we do what we can, but it's never going to be enough."

I ducked my head on his caring scrutiny, it was frightening.

Wes turned to leave, "You take it easy ok? No dancing today at practice."

"Wes, you can't treat me separately."

"Oh yes I can and I will. You know it's not just you right? If anyone was sick they would be sitting out."

"Thanks." And really it was a relief, not dancing would mean not aggravating my wounds.

"Yeah," he finally lightened up a bit, "You're countertenor is joining today." My countertenor? Interesting...at least I had something to look forward to today.

All day long I sat in hard chairs on sore legs, gritting my teeth to keep from flinching. All day long I bantered with the guys and smiled brilliant grins. Never once did I let on that inside I felt like I was rotting away.

•••

"I MADE WARBLERS!" Kurt practically tackled me at lunch. It was good that I was sitting, such a forceful embrace would sting dreadfully, though that might be a pain I would be willing to endure.

"Haha, yes, I know. You were fantastic."

Oh that cute blush, "Thanks."

"You ready for your first meeting today?"

"I guess so, I hope they like me..."

"Um, how much did you hang out with them this weekend?"

"A lot..."

"Yeah, thought so, they will love you."

Kurt looked up bashfully through bronze eyelashes, "I missed you this weekend." I think my heart just skipped like five beats.

"Sorry, I was sick." He doesn't need to know about the panic, none of the underclassmen do, why should he?

"Yes Maurice said, though Wes eventually did stop him from spreading ridiculous gossip." Freshmen...

"How was your weekend though?" His response was postponed by the barrage of questions posed from the newly arrived Junior Warblers. Eventually though their concerns about my health life quieted down and we all began the discussion of the Halloween dance/party.

"How did the performance go?"

"It was pretty good," Dear St. Trent replied, "but Geo had nothing on you."

"I'm sure he didn't." I chuckled sarcastically, Geo is like the next Justin Timberlake.

At this point about five Sophomore Warblers ran by shouting, "SOPHOMORES PREVAILED ONCE MORE!" To which Wes clenched his fists purple in Wes-like fury.

"Um...Wes? What happened there?"

"Even though costumes were SPECIFICALLY banned for Warblers, they all decided to come as, shall we say...risqué versions of the Crawford Country Day girls, to the horror of all the teachers and administrators of both campuses, and myself." I wish I had been there just to see Wes' face when he saw them.

"Personally, I thought it was great," Thad butted in.

Wes snapped back, "Of course you did.

"Just sharing my opinion..." He held his hands up in mock defeat.

I ate my sandwich fervently to try and stop from laughing at poor Wes. I didn't exactly succeed.

"You think its funny too, Blaine?"

"I think that you're funny."

"Oh shut up."

Nick now decided to put his head on the line, "Kurt had like ten girls batting eyelashes at him."

"I did NOT!" Kurt squealed. Adorable.

"He so did, they were all "what's your name? I love your hair""

"My hair was pretty awesome..."

"They sure thought so...."

"Oh my god..." Kurt buried his reddening face in slender hands.

"And I think David ate like, what, five pieces of cake?" Jeff turned to a grinning David.

"Actually it was six."

"Oh my god David! Seriously?" It was hard to tell if Nick was appalled or in awe.

"I pride myself in my dessert eating habits."

"No joke..."

"That's an...interesting hobby to have." Kurt pointed out.

"It's the absolute best kind. Well that and charming the ladies."

Wes mumbled "Or your history teacher..."

"Hey, a guys gotta do what a guys gotta do if he wants an A in history."

"I got my A without hitting on the teacher, thank you very much," Wes puffed out his chest.

"Sorry I wasn't born a genius Wes."

I let the guys quarrel on as I turned to an amused, while a tinge confused, Kurt, "So was the rest of your weekend?"

"Pretty good. I spent a lot of time with Carver. He has a TV in his room, which I am pretty sure is against regulations, but we watched a couple of movies. He again stated that I am the best roommate ever, though this time because I didn't fight him over the girls in the films, and because I chose to eat a healthy apple instead of Doritos, so he got the whole bag to hisself. His room was DISGUSTING though, seriously I was kind of looking forward to going to a private boarding school just to get away from the mess of Finn. But I just got thrown back in with his clone. Carver's really cool though."

"So you're liking Dalton?"

"So far? Yes, I definitely am."

"Good."

•••

"Please welcome our newest addition to the Warblers, Kurt Hummel." Wes' statement was met by a cheerful smattering of applause. Kurt gave that little smile, his eyes lidded in shyness, "And as per our oldest tradition. You are to presented with your own real Warbler, to care for and raise. Your Warbler was given up by Lucien, congratulations to him for his generosity. Kurt," Wes paused for his dear dramatics, "Meet Pavarotti."

Kurt's teal eyes blew wide with surprise as an ornate cage was handed to him. He took it delicately, keeping care not to jostle the singing bird inside. 

Every year, all the freshman received a Warbler which they kept all year and through the summer. When they became sophomores, they had to give up their bird to a new freshman. If a new student or transfer student came, one of the freshman would give their bird up early. At first, all the boys wanted to give up their birds, but after a year they had become so attached that they would often visit their birds in the new freshman's room. It was said that one didn't become a member until they received their bird, but they didn't become a Warbler until they had to give it up.

Practice proceeded from there, I didn't dance, Wes made sure of that (though I didn't exactly argue) and nobody questioned it (Maurice can spread gossip like David can spread icing). At the end everyone was patting Lucien on the back and giving Kurt advice for his new pet. He looked overwhelmed.

"I have a bird, Blaine. A BIRD! What do I do with a bird?" Kurt hissed.

"You take care of it, and it will sing."

"I know NOTHING about birds, Blaine."

"Hardly anyone does when they first get their Warbler," I looked down at that fat sunflower of a bird, it chirped up at me, "come on, lets go put the cage up and I'll write you a list of what to do." Kurt grabbed the cage and I took the bag of supplies provided and we made our way up the stairs (I, trying the whole time not to trip and fall out of the fact that my legs were in flames).

Once in the room, Kurt sat up on his desk, lounging back on his hands with his legs primly crossed. I on the other hand took the chair, immediately starting on the list, explaining everything to Kurt as he bombarded me with questions in an act of nervousness.

"Where do I even put it?" He threw up his hands.

"Well what I did was take the nightstand," I got up and pushed the pedestal, "and put it in front of the window, I figured that even a bird would like a nice view."

"What was your bird like Blaine?"

"Ah...I had Netrebko, she was great," I sighed, glancing out the window to see all the athletes practicing out in the expansive fields.

I remember that when they handed me my bird, I almost had a panic attack right then. How could I take care of a bird if I couldn't even take care of myself. I was terrified that I would hurt her. I spent hours simply watching her, expecting for her to fall over dead and prove that I was worthless at caring, but she never did. She would just stare right back at me, and sing. I would wake up soaking in perspiration from nightmares, and pull the navy blanket off her cage, just so her twinkling voice could comfort me. Netrebko became almost a lifeline, I didn't have many friends (I had only just begun to open up to all the Warblers) but she always kept me company. 

She was my proof that I could love.

"Who has her now?" Kurt interrupted my reminiscing.

"De'Javi."

"Do you ever see her?"

"Yeah, occasionally, I used to visit her more often last year when Stephan had her." Now I have actual people to care for.

"Ah," he looked back over at his bird.

"You'll be fine. I know it is really big at first but...you'll learn to like Pavarotti quite a lot."

"I've never had a pet before though..."

"Don't stress, you will be just fine."

"What if-what if I accidentally kill it?"

"You won't...I promise....it's gonna be ok."

"You keep saying that."

I stood up, the list done, I needed to go work on my homework, I patted him quickly on the shoulder, "It's true."

I scrawled a quick sentiment at the bottom of the list, a sentiment that surpassed birds and songs and schools. A sentiment that I would need just as much as he.

-Courage

•••

Kurt was doing great, honestly great, but he still worried me. he had hollow shadows resting under his eyes that he tried so hard to cover up, you could only notice if you looked right into his eyes (which I tended to do). Of course, it was expected that he was to have trouble sleeping, to have nightmares, it was expected that he would be a little held back after transferring schools, but it didn't stop me from worrying. I decided that I was going to need to get to know Carver a little better, I slipped into the open seat next to him in English (our teacher didn't mind us switching seats as long as we still did our work), "Hey Carver."

"Oh! Hey man! What's up?"

I don't think Carver is the type of guy to look deep into the meanings of conversation, with him you generally just have to go for it, "I'm worried about Kurt. Is he sleeping?"

"Yeah, he goes to bed really early, like at ten."

"What time do you usually go to bed?!"

"I duh know, like two maybe?"

"Ok, but is like REALLY sleeping?"

"Huh, well he like rolls around a lot and makes like these high little noises, I think it's nightmares. I tried to wake him up once but he got all embarrassed and stuff so..."

"Oh..." That's what I thought. It hurt that I couldn't even do anything.

"You like him don't you."

"I'm impressed with your attentiveness."

"Um...ok...so that's a yes?" Oh freak...

"Um..."

"Hah! Yes you do! I KNEW it! You should ask him out!"

"No...not right now.."

"Just like...you like coffee right? Go out to coffee."

"I can't believe you are giving me advice on this..."

"Believe me man, I can't either..."

•••

The welts had dulled now to where it just felt like muscles after an extraordinarily long run, like my skin was just an inch too tight. It was at this point, when I was sure that I wouldn't flinch (because I knew that of all people, Kurt would notice) that I decided to bring up the subject of coffee again.

Standing in front of Kurt's door, I couldn't believe that I was taking advice from Carver.

"Hi! Um, would you like to go get some coffee?"

"I-sure, just let me grab a coat and feed Pavarotti..."

"Oh! Yes, how are he and you getting along?"

"Oh, well," he shrugged his coal dust coat on and put a christmas-type plaid scarf around his neck, "we are still in the stage of not knowing what to do with one another, but it's good."

"Nice to hear," I saw Carver pop his head out of the adjacent door, he smirked at me. I mouthed at him to shut up before he ducked back in with satisfaction and a thumbs up.

"So where are we going? While the Lima Bean has wonderful coffee, I don't think it is really worth a two hour drive."

"Oh good, I was thinking the same thing. I don't actually know, I was thinking we could just drive around until we found a bakery or cafe or something?"

"Ah yes, bakeries, they must seem like health food markets to you, seeing as you perceive breads the equivalent of vegetables."

"How can it not be healthy if you need seven servings?!"

"Oh my god...do you even know how big a serving is?"

"I don't know, like a bagel?"

"A bagel is the amount of all seven servings Blaine."

"Wait WHAT?! Oh my GOD! Stop ruining my favorite food group!"

"I thought your favorite food group was ice cream." Kurt smirked sideways at me as we reached my car.

"Touché, I take back my previous comments."

We drove around downtown Westerville, scouting out possible coffee locations and eventually (despite Kurt's long drawn rant on the fact that their name was an offense to the english language) we settled on Kathleen's Kup, a cute little coffee boutique-like shop. It turned out that the coffee was terrible, watery and bland, but the atmosphere inside was lively, so we stayed. Or we might have stayed for the simple reason that we got to spent a while together, alone, without being interrupted by a constant flow of preppy school boys. 

A wiry girl with hot chocolate skin was behind the cash register, her fluffy hair tied back in a cute, fuchsia bandana knot, "Hi! Welcome to Kathleen's Kup! What can I get for you?"

I slyly elbowed Kurt out of the way (he would NOT be paying this time!), "Hi, we will have one Grande Non-fat Mocha and a Medium drip please."

Kurt looked pleasantly astonished, "You know my coffee order?"

"Of course I do."

The barista let out a little lip-glossed smile as Kurt's splendid eyes widened, "Name please?"

"Blaine." 

The whole shop was painted shades of blue, it had little window seats around the edges with fuzzy pillows. Kurt and I went for one of the Parisian wire cafe tables though once we picked up our coffees (at this point still unaware that they were a terrible blemish on the face of the coffee industry).

I wanted to ask how he was doing, but I knew he would simply reply with "fine" (not that I could blame him of course, I would say the exact same thing...I DO say the exact same thing...), so instead I rephrased the question, "How are you liking school?"

"Well...the work's harder, but the kids are nicer...and I can keep up with the work so...it's kind of great."

"Yeah...I felt the same way..."

"Do you, um, do you ever miss home?"

"Mmm," nope, "Do you?"

He looked down into his cup of coffee (cup of really bad coffee), "Yeah...I was going to go home tonight for our Friday Night Dinner, but Finn is bringing his current girlfriend, and I loathe her."

"Would it be yokelish of me to ask why?"

Kurt snorted, "Yokelish Blaine? Really?"

"It's a word!"

"I am aware of that, but I've never actually heard anyone say it!"

"I have a thing for interesting words..."

"No joke...and no it wouldn't be rude to ask, " Kurt sighed and stared out the window, "Her name is Rachel, and to be honest I don't even know how she roped Finn in. I mean, Finn is the varsity quarterback, like the most popular guy in the school, and Rachel is...well...not quite as popular. She was in glee club with me and she was the most vain and tactless person I have ever met." Wow, this girl is starting to remind me of the late Anthony Warbler, "And it wasn't even tactless in the way Finn can be, Finn doesn't know what he is saying half the time so if he is insulting you just blame it on his lack of knowledge. Rachel knows exactly what she is saying, and she knows exactly where its going to hurt. She is one of those people that puts others down to make herself feel better. She also hogged like EVERY freaking solo ever."

"She sounds like a beauty."

"Yeah, and currently, she is having dinner at my house. Which is why I postponed my trip home until Tomorrow morning."

"You said something earlier about Friday Dinners or something? Is that like a family tradition thing?"

"Yeah, it's always been a Hummel thing. When I was little no one ever dared miss a dinner, but now we just have them when we can. Whenever the whole family can get together on a Friday night we either all go out to eat, or we make something really fancy. Well at least, Carole and I make something fancy, Finn and my dad just eat."

"That sounds...awesome..." It was like my heart was being jabbed by a spoon of jealousy for Kurt's family. He honestly has no idea how lucky he is.

"It's pretty nice yeah, though its better now that the family is bigger. Eating with just my dad and I could get awkward, there is not that much we can talk about just the two of us..but he is getting better at pretending to find things like fashion and broadway interesting."

We bantered on through the periwinkle aurora that seemed to encircle the shop. Customers kept flooding revolving through, picking up cakes and other delicacies for Friday night parties.

"So I think I'm going to end up becoming real good friends with Jeff."

"I can see that. You both have a lot in common, mainly the fact that you both are generally very calm people."

"Yeah, he also said his dad is a welder, which is kind of like a mechanic I guess, we ended up having an hour long discussion about car parts yesterday."

"I didn't know you knew that much about cars." I couldn't picture Kurt lying under a car, smeared over with browning grease.

"Oh pleeeaase," he swatted the air, "I've been able to build a car since I was three."

"Yeah...I'm not so great with automobiles..." I remembered when I was younger, back when my parents still had a spark of caring, my dad tried to build a car with me. He gave up two weeks later after he yelled at me for being hopeless and to much of a girl because all I wanted to do was go back inside and play the piano.

"Maybe one day I'll show you some stuff."

"I think I'll stick with singing and dancing, thanks."

"Oh! I never really told you, but you sound fantastic on Hey, Soul Sister."

"Oh," flush, wring hands around styrofoam coffee cup, "thanks..."

"No seriously! You're a pretty good dancer too!"

"Ok, I'll just take the compliment..."

"Yeah, do that. But I'm serious, you're voice is...indescribable." Now he was the one blushing day lilies.

•••

"Thanks for the coffee, Blaine. Even though the drink itself was lacking, I had a wonderful time."

"I agree."

"We should do this more often..."

"Again, I agree."

"Well, I probably won't see you until Sunday night so...have a good weekend?"

"You too! I hope your brother doesn't talk to much about his great new girlfriend."

"Oh god..."

"See ya around then." As he turned around to unlock his door, I slipped a note (written in my very handsome calligraphy that I spent an unnecessary amount of time on) into his bag, he probably wouldn't find it for awhile, but I didn't care. 

One could always use a little extra courage.


	6. Chapter 6

The nightmare should come worse now, with home so close in the past. They don't. All I have to do is just remember that soft hand pressed so lightly to my lips, and the world becomes just one shade sunnier. The only counterforce to this wonderful anomaly is that soon I must return again to the dungeons of my mind, or home as normal children call it. My infatuation grows in time with the others boys energy for thanksgiving break, but so do my levels of panic. I have taken to studying with Kurt to distract my whizzing mind. The common rooms were always rampant with sound whereas the library was so still that you felt as if you could get shot for breathing, so we stuck to his room.He will lay sprawled across his bed (somehow still managing to look implausibly endearing) whereas I sat stiffly in the desk chair, shoes long forgotten, and writing on my knee. Everyday Kurt would tell me that I could use his desk and every day I would refuse, desks are places where thoughts begin, not where guests take over. We always got our assignments done a bit before dinner and so usually ended up just socializing, sometimes Carver would come and join us (he was beginning to become quite the familiar face in my world) and sometimes not.

"So, Blaine, tell me something I don't know about you."

If I were an honest soul this conversation could be never ending.

I have a ceaseless battle with panic.

I numb out the world with the cold.

I have a mother who wouldn't bat an eye if I were to fall over dead at her feet.

I have a father who beats me into unconsciousness every time I set foot in my house. 

I have almost died and no one really cared. 

But no, none of those things I could ever say. None of them. 

So I picked something light.

"I have an unhealthy addiction with bow ties, like seriously unhealthy."

"Oh I'm sure its THAT bad."

"Oh god, you don't even know. You have only seen me out of uniform twice."

"True, and you were wearing a bow tie each time."

"Ask any of the guys, I refuse to go anywhere out of uniform without a bow tie." Except home, never to home.

"That sounds a little over the top."

"It is. I can't help myself though!"

"At least you picked something cute to be addicted to, I don't think I could be your friend if you told me you were addicted to...I don't know..."

"Drugs maybe?"

"Actually I was thinking more like tennis shoes."

"What's wrong with tennis shoes. I mean I never really wear them but still."

"They have NO class, Blaine, duh..." Ah, I got one of those famous looks.

"Well ok, so I told you that I have an obsession with bow ties..."

"...I need to see your collection someday..."

"So what is YOUR big obsession Kurt Evan."

"No FAIR! You told me I couldn't call you Blaine Devon." Kurt threw his pencil at me, nearly taking out my ear."

"Fine, fine...I think its cute but..."

"Well I think Blaine Devon is cute..."

"Did you realize that our names rhyme? I just realized that..."

"Huh...boy are we cute." Yes, yes we are. I like the sound of "we".

"Humble again?"

Kurt gave a dramatic fake-hair flip "You know it."

"Ok so just-plain-Kurt-not-Kurt-Evan, what is your obsession?" Oh an eye roll now? He's adorable.

"Well if we are talking in terms of clothing...I love scarves and boots...but no where near you apparent love of bow ties..."

"Oh come on, its not THAT bad..."

"You were the one who said it was!"

"Fine, fine. So then NOT in terms of clothing, what is one thing I don't know about you."

Kurt blushed and picked at his comforter, "Ok...so its kinda silly but I really like carnival stuff. Like I know its for little kids, but I love the ferris wheel, stuffed animals, cotton candy, and all the balloons."

"It's not silly." Could he be anymore cute?

"Well yeah, I haven't been to one in YEARS, but I've always thought that it would make a perfect first date..."

Is he implying something?

Well no time to ponder it, a giant of a boy just crashed into the room.

"Guys, are you going to sit there flirting forever or are you gonna come get dinner."

"We weren't-"

"Yeah, we were just-"

"Whatever dudes, just get some food."

•••

The choreography to Titanium was finished by Friday. Wes made us practice it like twenty times in a row once we finished because he started having this crazy anxiety that we would somehow forget the song we had working on for over a month in the span of a weekend. Kurt looks so cute when he dances, he gets this little look of determination on his face that scrunches up his forehead, he's adorable. It is in this dance rehearsal (where I am undeniably distracted by the cuteness of a certain cream-colored boy) that snow starts to stick. Flakes have been floating around in gusts for the past two weeks, but now they have begun to cling to the long-hardened earth. In the midst of our running along the tops of furniture and -break-dance-offs a couple of freshmen start screaming about snow, foiling Wes' plans to keep us practicing forever. All of our musical sense is launched out the window as we sprint maniacally through the halls and out the great doors to the barely white lawn. There is only about half an inch on the ground as of current but none of us care, we are scraping it off the lawn and hurling it at each other in puffs of white dust.

I love the snow, its coldness, its cleanliness, the way it covers up the world to keep it safe in time for Spring.

Only Wes and Kurt still stand in the doorway, (Wes being too professional for a snowball fight and Kurt being too well put together) looking at us with humored disdain as if we were five years old (I couldn't really argue, I think we all felt about five. Carefree and energized). They were standing there that is until a couple of seniors doused them in loose milky particles. Suddenly Kurt was at us, launching the dry snow at us with an arm strength none of us knew he had, he had us running away from him instead of the other way around. Other boys from all over the school started pouring out of the exits onto the quickly brightening lawn, until half the school was screaming and running and throwing. All us boys still in our uniform, soaked, and shivering (well others were shivering, I was quite nice) our clothes probably ruined, but none of us gave a freak. We were dripping with water, our hair stuck up frozen, our faces smeared with crystalline powder, and we were laughing. Laughing to the point where you feel like you are spasming with cackles, to where it becomes a silent motion, to where you feel like you are about to suffocate, suffocate with joy. A couple of Warblers started belting out off-tune jumbled melodies at the top of their voices. Dancing and singing their souls out, no one cared about their clashing chords because they just sounded so happy. Nick and Jeff decided to try and make snow angels, being as the snow was only a thin layer, they ended up just throwing themselves to the ground and flailing their limbs on frozen grass. I laid down next to them, closing my eyes and letting the pellets fall on my nose, eyelashes, lips. The snow stinging down onto the tip of my tongue and then melting down into oblivion. I don't know how long I stayed there, letting the cool air wash me into peace, and the boy's crazy calls slip into the background, but soon a pair of shoes were shuffling up next to me.

"This is the most fun I have had like, ever." I opened my eyes to see Kurt throwing a handful of snow up into the air, it caught the light as it fell as a veil back down over his face, sticking like pearls in his hair. His eyes twinkled and his nose wrinkled with chimes of laughter.

"I love the snow." I sighed in the frigid breeze.

"It's been on the verge of really snowing for weeks now, I'm so happy it finally stuck!" This time Kurt threw a handful of snow down at me.

"Hey!" I laughed, rolling up off the grass, trying to brush some of the snow off the back of my blazer, "No fair!"

Another snow battle ensued, about twenty other guys joined in, all of us chasing each other like rampant stallions around the lawn (Kurt won...again...where did he hide that throwing arm?). We pretty much all stayed out until dusk, when the outside lights flooded out through the yard and a couple of administrators came out to fetch us. They made us all go up and change so we wouldn't trek melting snow all through the dining hall (just trek it up to our rooms). All the boys returned downstairs, still giddy with the weather, rosy faced and with wet, wild hair. We were greeted by an army of lunch ladies handing out warm soup and hot tea, neither of which I much cared for, but I was ravished with hunger, so I ate.

"Oh my god, Kurt," Thad slid into a chair across the table, "you can THROW man!"

"My dad was constantly trying to get me to join the little league team when I was a kid, I chose the theater instead."

"Dude, you SOAKED me in snow."

"I try."

"So you think they'll make us get all of our uniforms cleaned?" Nick scrunched his face up.

Trent was indignant, "Well you can't wear it all covered in MUD!"

"And don't just stick it in the wash, " Kurt poked his finger at Nick's face, "It's got to be dry cleaned."

""WHAT?! I hate going to the dry cleaners! It takes so many trips..."

"At least we all didn't get some kind of detention."

"And why would we get detention? We were playing in snow Trent, PLAYING in SNOW."

"Because we tore up the front lawn, ruined our uniforms, and tracked snow through every hallway and every dorm. Probably causing some people to slip and also ruining expensive wood flooring." He said it in a manner that was like a teacher telling kindergardeners that they were no longer allowed crayons. 

"Honestly? That's the thing you think of after we just had the best day EVER?"

"It's important to be mature about situations." 

"Riiiight, So David, did you see that they are serving hot blueberry pie for dessert?"

"Ohmygod! Where? I'm gonna go find it! Ohmygod yes! PIE!"

I poked at Kurt, "Sounds like he hasn't learned about your new and fancy food pyramid either."

"They seriously need some health classes at Dalton."

"Oh we have health class...it's just more of a time for guys to ask all the questions about girls they have been secretly wondering about....not so much about dieting..."

Kurt looked disgusted, "That sounds like it could be quite the traumatizing experience."

"Oh it was...."

David came scrambling back, carrying three plates, "Ooh! Did you get one for me?"

"How long have you know David, Jeff? David doesn't share food."

"That, Thad, is the most observant thing I have ever heard you say, congratulations." He gave a toothy smile, "Nope, these are all for me. They actually had three kinds, so I got them all of course, cherry, blueberry, and one called rhubarb, I don't know what a rhubarb is, but it's in a pie, so I'm gonna eat it."

"It's a kind of fruit, and it's real good for you."

"You would know that Kurt."

•••

It was Sunday afternoon, about half a foot of snow laid on the ground now, though none of it was pristine, all being trampled on by hoards of boys. I was finishing up a book report for English when a polite knock came from the suite bathroom door.

"Come in," I turned around in my chair to see a head of mousy waves peep into my room carefully before the rest of that twig-thin body followed.

His voice was reedy and slightly faltering, he pushed his wire glasses up as he stood taller, albeit awkwardly, in the middle of the room, "Hey Blaine, I was wondering if you have your old Chemistry book?"

"Oh, right, you're taking AP Chem this year..."

"Yes, I like the extra science." And I thought I was insane.

"Yeah, um, I think I do. You're welcome to sit," I gestured to the bed. He perched on the edge. As I searched through my closet I racked my brain for things to say, "Um, so when does the soccer season start?" I still couldn't picture this kid as an athlete.

"Oh, not until the spring, so right now I am just concentrating on science."

"Are you like, on one of those competitive academic team things?"

"Yes, yes I am. You know, with your grades, you should really consider joining one."

"Thanks, but my time is pretty much all taken up by the Warblers."

"When's the first competition? I can't wait to go." There tended to be quite a large fraction of the school that attended the concerts and competitions. It really was quite nice.

"Sectionals are in January, which is a really inconvenient time because it's right after the break, but it works." I handed him the book.

"Well, I'll be sure to show up," he waved the book up and pivoted around to leave, "thanks for this." 

"Um, you could stay, um, if you want-but you don't have to of course. I wouldn't want to be a distraction, but you're welcome to stay if you want-"

"Sure, that sounds good."

"It's just-we have been suite-mates together for about three months now, but I still don't really know much about you. Of course I know that it's mainly my fault, I'm not very good at making new friends, "Except Kurt, always except for Kurt, "But I guess it's not to late to get to know each other..." I don't really know what magic possessed me to say this, I guess it was seeing how cool Carver was to Kurt. I was always weak for friendship.

"I-yeah-It's partly my fault to but-yeah that sounds good."

Neither of us really knew what to do or say, so we just sat in an awkward silence studying. It was a start though.

•••

I got a new phone in the mail. I was delirious with shock. My FATHER sent me a new phone. I at least was shocked until about an hour later I received a message from him.

Father: There has been a change of plans. Your mother was invited by her Ladies Club to host a Thanksgiving meal in Indianapolis. You will not be coming. We will not see you until Friday evening. Behave.

Like I wouldn't ever behave. At least this explained the phone though, it was just for me to get a message. Oh well, he just spent $200 on a new phone for me. I would be spending four days alone though. Alone in a house that has spawned most of my nightmares. Alone was the yeast that made the bread of panic. 

"So what are you doing for Thanksgiving?" Simon had become a regular in my room, and I in his. I now tended to do most studying with him, leaving my free time open for the Warblers and for Kurt (free time with Kurt usually meant singing along to the radio-we sound amazing I must say-or hijacking Carver's TV to watch rom-cons and cheesy reality shows).

"Uh-well-just the usual stuff you know...what about you." Simon seemed to warily analyze my vague answer before replying.

"Babysitting all of my siblings and cousins. Putting up with slightly-insane great aunts and uncles. Watching my grandma knit. My kind of usual. Oh, and eating turkey, like TONS of turkey. My mom kinda goes crazy when it comes to cooking turkey, I tend to stay well out of her way."

That sounded like everything a Thanksgiving was supposed to be, my chest hurt with the needle of want, "So how many siblings and cousins do you get to watch?"

"Well, I'm the oldest out of all of them, so I get to do ALL of the watching. The family pretty much just sits around and watches me scramble after them all. There are twelve cousins and seven siblings."

Oh my god, "And you have to watch all of them?"

"Yup, for a whoooole week. Fun right?"

"I don't even know what to do with one kid...I couldn't handle, what is it? Nineteen?"

"It's crazy. Don't ever offer to watch cousins."

"Yeah, no joke..."

"What about you? Any extended family coming over?"

"No, not this year." Thank the Lord.

"So then for you Thanksgiving is a pretty quiet affair?" This year? Unfathomably so.

"You could say that."

"I love the holidays, even with all of the screaming kids that come with them." I hate holidays. Long opportunities to be beaten continuously. At least this year I only had to last through Friday evening.

•••

It's so silent.

So silent that a creak in the floor, the small cricket of a clock, cause a deep set paranoia to bloom out in my chest, neck, fingers, leaking out like stray sparks in the gloom. 

I am alone.

So alone, I try and text everyone. I do text everyone, Kurt mostly, but also Wes, David, Thad, Trent, Jeff, Nick, even Carver, even Simon. But there is only so long you can text someone before you become a sticky piece of string, dragging them away from their normal life. I have conversations varying from peanut butter toast to paintball to wether satin or velvet is more prestigious, but nothing really breaks the soundless casket. 

My house has always lacked the warm hugs and family room stories that make anyone else's house a home, but being here alone makes you see all of the starched lives and super-glued cracks in the structure. I am too frightened to stay in any room that is not my own, knowing that I would not be allowed there if my parents were home. Instead I sneak around the kitchen at odd times, trying to quickly scrounge up any edible scraps, and then return to my room. My room that I am to spend four days imprisoned in.

Kurt texts me once and asks if I would care to joon him for coffee (apparently that Rachel girl was over again and driving him insane), it killed me to tell him that no, I wouldn't be able to attend. He had already asked about Thanksgiving twice, I knew that if I were to go get coffee it would be brought up again in more depth. I couldn't risk it. I was nauseated with myself and repelled at my situation, I spent the next hour staring blankly up at my ceiling. For what else is there to do?

Panic, that's what.

With nothing to keep thoughts at bay, the harrowing memories came screeching back into hallucination-like focus. With every sound a whisper magnified to the hundredth, yet still two echoes away, and every sight a persistent dream, life turned into a lonely cycle of unclarity. I relived all the abuse, letting the vile words overtake me. I relived the day I almost died, the day with the blood and the beatings. I relived the sharp stab in my back. I relived the day I wanted to die, and the day that I couldn't. It pulsed on until I couldn't take it, stripping off my soft sweater, I collided down the stairs and out, out into the now fully snow-filled yard. I panted out puff of frozen hyperventilation, my bones quaking and sweating underneath my thin dress shirt and dour slacks. I wanted to let the cool air sand off the bone spurs of panic. I wanted nothing more than to fling off my shoes and submerge my feet into the algid cloud of white, but I knew that if I did I could risk the destruction of much more than my mind.

And I didn't want to die.

Not anymore.

So I stood out there, limp and wet, my face lifted to the clouded drab sky, letting the snow cover me up, hide me. I stood until I knew that I was stretching the limits of frostbite, until the numbness had set deep down like a weighty iron anchor.

•••

The days passed in this same manor: Distract myself with friends (or lie to friends? I didn't know), lay a living comatose, panic. Thanksgiving came and went with no real recognition, only that I couldn't text people more than a few shallow words because they were all occupied with families and festivities. They asked about my holiday and I simply stated that it was quiet. Nothing more, just quiet. And then I hated myself for having to pick out the small truths to provide a unknowing facade of lies. 

At least the days passed like this until Friday evening. By the time I heard the first rubber squeal on asphalt, I was already in a heated, full-blown panic attack. When the door opened with a emotionless click I wanted to scream, when I heard my named called I wanted to hide.

"Blaine!"

My eyes blown full, my heart beating too fast I made my way down the stairs, trying not to slip and die in the process. I saw my mother sigh like I was simply a naughty dog who had chewed the leg off an expensive couch, and I heard her slip off to confine herself in the calmness of her room. 

"I would say it's good to see you, but I wouldn't want to lie. Unlike you, I don't like lying. I prefer to be straight and clean." I didn't miss his double meaning of the word straight.

"I'm not lying, sir."

"Yes, you are, and it's absolutely the most shameful and disgusting thing. You are the most shameful and disgusting thing. The most disgusting thing that has ever happened to me." I couldn't even flinch.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Look at you, groveling on your knees. You're so weak."

I am. I know. I am.

I can't even be brave enough to tell anyone what I suffer. To run away from this abuse. 

"You are nothing."

Sometimes I believe you.

"In my day people like you could be locked up in asylums. Shocked up until your mind was set straight. Now with all these radicals around that would be considered inhumane. If it was still an option I would lock you up so fast you wouldn't know what got you."

He wishes that I didn't exist. That I was locked away like the criminally insane, to be shocked out and cut up.

"Sometimes I wish you had succeeded that day. At least we could have made up a moving story."

He wishes that I were dead.

And in a sick way, it didn't hurt. Because I already knew exactly what he thought of me. 

"If I weren't so important, you would be on the streets right now-"

I didn't hear the end of the sentence because suddenly I noticed...he didn't have a belt on. I didn't know wether to be relieved, or horrified, because for all I knew, something else was coming. 

It was the latter.

"Listen to me when I talk to you." He spun me around and hit me exactly where he knew it would hurt like a splitting gunshot. His fist pounded down onto my back, just above the crook in my spine from so long ago. Immediately I was breathless on the floor, my eyes clouded over with pulsing black spots. Yanking me back up he hit my shoulder so hard my arm came out of its socket, completely blacking out my eyes for a second.

From there he hit my back, my upper arms until he freed blood. He slapped the recent whip marks to jolt pain. He slammed my head into the wall and pinned my arms back as he kicked my shins. By the end I was sparkled with blood droplets and flowering with bruises on every space that wasn't visible.

The weekend passed with me locked my room, cycling through panic, false texts, ice packs, and medicines, not eating anything but a couple of leftover crackers so I wouldn't have to brave the unknown of downstairs.

Every time life seemed to get one step better, I had to be punched three steps back.


	7. Chapter 7

The black clouds should have come sweeping down like those antediluvian plagues of locusts...but they didn't.

Yes, my body was aflame with pain. Yes I was absolutely miserable. Yes, the beatings were worsening again. But at this moment, I have a stunning boy to keep the fog at bay.

We both pulled into Dalton around the same time on Sunday evening. Him already rising out of his Navigator and retrieving his suitcase as I pulled in on the crunching gravel. His face broke into one of his great smiles, the kind with pearly teeth, not his reserved one. He dragged his bag over towards me as I grabbed mine out of the trunk.

"Hi Blaine Devon."

"Hi," my formerly cracked glass eyes glowed with pleasure.

"What? You're not going to fight me on your name?"

"I have a feeling that we are never going to resolve this issue, so I decided to let you win."

"Oh? How kind of you."

"Mm," I took his bag out of his hand to carry it. Yes it hurt (a whole darn lot), but one must always remember to be a gentleman...especially around one's crush.

"Oh, I could have gotten that..." He tried to reach back for it. 

"I know, " I walked quicker, out of his reach, "But just go with it."

"Ok...well thanks."

"Welcome."

I lugged both bags up the stairs (Kurt packed a LOT of stuff!), my sore shoulder sizzling, my shins bruised blue, and up to Kurt's room.

He opened the door to let me set the suitcase inside, "Um, so, I-I missed you this last week..." Kurt looked anywhere but my eyes, blushing lilies.

"I'm sorry, I-"

"No! No, you were fine...it's just, um...Would you like to go try and find some decent coffee again with me sometime?"

"Oh! Yeah, sure, definitely. Um...when? When were you thinking?"

"I-I guess Friday? If that's ok?" This was silly, we had been to coffee before, why the sudden stumbles? What was so different about now?"

"That's great, yeah..."

"Ok."

"Ok..."

"So...I'll see you tomorrow morning then..."

"Yeah, see ya," 

I had about half my body out the door when I stuck my head back in at Kurt's voice. He was right there, inches away, hands wringing behind his back as he worried his rich lips. 

Stunning.

"It's nice to see you again."

That's why it was different.

It was gone so fast, I was out alone in the hall before my mind even thought of catching up with my nerves, skin, heart. I stood watching the door with my mouth parted, seeming to think that if I stood long enough it might open again to reveal that resplendent boy.

It didn't.

I was just left with the soft ghost of a memory. His face looming down, rosy, then lips of the top of my cheekbone, right under my eye. My hand lifted to the spot and rested there, trying to feel again what I had felt moments before, that soft mouth pressed for barely a breath against my skin.

If only he could understand that, to me, it wasn't JUST a peck on the cheek.

He was kissing my wounds away.

•••

"So how were all the kids?"

"Um, they were fine, I guess. Annoying, but fine, "Simon stammered out in his usual squeaky way, "What about you? You look tired, rough holiday?"

"You could say that..." He eyed me warily from across the room.

"Huh...well so how are things with Kurt, hmm?"

"Oh...so you know about that?"

"I think the whole school knows it. Honestly Blaine, you go on coffee dates, hang out daily, and you blush like crazy every time he even approaches you."

"Oh...well um, today he, um-"

"Yes...?"

I ducked my head and let it out as one rush of a word, "hekissedmeonthecheek."

"He...what?"

I puffed air out of my lips, "He kissed me on the cheek."

"Oh my god! Really? Congratulations!" Simon's eyes inflated behind his thick glasses, "Does anyone else know?"

"No...I think it would be rude to blab it all over the school. If even one Warbler found out, it would only take about ten seconds before anyone else knew."

"True, Kurt and you are going to be adorable. God, I sound like a teenage girl, look what you've done to me Blaine!"

"What?"

"I have never made a sound like that until I figured out that you had a crush on Kurt."

"Like what?"

"I actually squealed Blaine. Squealed!"

Oh Simon, "Have you ever dated anyone?"

"Nope, never even been asked out."

"Sorry to hear that, but at least now I know I'm not the only one."

"Nope, I am. You are crushing on a boy who is seriously crushing on you back. I think you are a lot closer to getting a boyfriend than I am. Well you're definitely closer to getting a boyfriend, especially since I like girls..."

"You'll find a nice girlfriend, don't stress it."

"Blaine, I have never even been asked out! You at least are cute!"

"You're cute!"

"No, you're saying that because you can't physically find it in you to be even remotely rude. I'm not cute, I am the ultimate nerd."

"Well, being nerdy is kinda in right now so..."

"No being a FAKE nerd is in, not a real one."

"Well you play soccer and stuff."

"Ok, so I have like ONE thing going for me."

"Well you're also good with kids, smart, and...and you're really nice."

He cocked his head at me with a tiny smile, "Thanks Blaine, you're quite nice yourself."

•••

The pain was like a thousand razor blades being scraped down the inside of my skull, like elephants stomping on my shins. I tried singing to keep calm, it worked for awhile. Broadway, folk, pop, oldies, anything I could think of. Simon was pretty used to my clammer by now, I didn't hold back anymore. I just let myself go, fly, run, not caring wether or not my mousy suite-mate would judge me (which he would never. Simon was wonderful). I had also regularly started leaving little tokens of courage hidden away in Kurt's room, more to myself than him. I knew he found them, I could see him carrying them around in his bag, and I knew he knew that I was the giver. He never mentioned it though, realizing that it was something beyond words, something to be shared in glances and feelings. I think he also knew that it was helping me, almost more than it seemed to be helping him. 

•••

I walked into the Junior commons to be met by a very disgruntled and confused Kurt seated across from an amused Jeff. They had a large deck of playing cards on a table between them.

"Wait, I don't understand this game!"

"Well you just try and get as close as you can to 21, you just draw cards, it's not that hard."

"But it's just luck! That's not a game! That's just picking up cards!"

"Playing 21 then?" I asked, Kurt looked up at me with one of his "looks".

"So you like this game too?"

"Yeah! Jeff taught me how to play when we were freshmen. I won every time."

"How can you win every time! This game is stupid!"

"Blaine has the best beginner's luck I have ever seen. It was insane."

"Yes, I pride myself in that."

"And you make fun of me for not being humble," Kurt mumbled.

"Well ya know Kurt, Wes is over there looking for someone to play Scrabble with..." Jeff smirked.

"No! I played with him yesterday! He spends like an hour looking for each word."

"I swear he has the entire dictionary memorized just so he can always win."

"Exactly why no one will play with him."

"Well he got David to play with him, but only because he bribed him with a packet of gummy bears."

"He's getting desperate..."

"Well so Kurt, am I going to have to bribe you or will you willingly play 21 with me."

"Fine, fine. I'll play the stupid game."

I left them to battle out their luck, and walked across the room to where Nick and Trent were perched. I just had to pass Wes on the way.

"Hey! Hey, Blaine! Wanna play Scrabble!" He jumped up so hopeful out of his chair.

"Um, no, not really..."

"Pleeeaaase!"

"You could bribe someone else."

"So you heard about my unclean methods?"

"It was just candy, I think you're ok. I bet you could rope in Thad if you did his homework." I smirked, waiting for the outburst that was sure to come.

"I could NEVER do that! People need to expand their minds on their own accord! I cannot resort to such TERRIBLE methods!"

"Whatever Wes, but I think you are only left with unsuspecting freshmen for opponents now."

"Fine, I'll just go to the main commons and wait for some then." Wes picked up his game board and started to exit the warm colored room.

"I was kidding you know Wes, don't prey on the underclassmen."

"Well I'm not kidding! I need an opponent!" With triumph he strutted out.

A Junior at the next table over had his eyebrows raised in shock, obviously having not spent enough time around Wes, "He is too serious about Scrabble..." 

"Hey Blainers!"

"Hey Nick, Trent."

"So I see your love interest is hanging around my bestie, jealous yet."

"Um no, 'cause Jeff is straight. You jealous?"

"Nah, if Kurt is hanging around my bestie then I'll get to hang around Kurt some more. Kurt's cool." Nick gave a firm nod.

"Yeah, he's great, and a wonderful addition to the Warblers." Trent piped in.

"I'm glad that he seems to be fitting in."

•••

"So I figured I would give you your report on Kurt's wellbeing. Hah! This is awesome I feel like a spy!"

"Um...ok, my what?"

"Well you are always asking about him so I figured I could just make it a thing."

"Alright," I figured I should just go with it, "So, um, how is he doing?"

"Sleeping better, eating more, and he seems more comfortable hanging around me now."

"So you guys are pretty close then?"

"Yeah, I told him I would beat up anyone who laid a finger on him. Well I mean like, if they lay a mean finger on him. You can lay a finger on him if it's nice, like if you're kissing and stuff."

"Yeah, Carver, I got what you meant..." Wow, ok...

"So yeah...he's doing a lot better. He calls home like every day too." I wish I had someone back home that I wanted to talk to everyday. Someone who would want to talk to me back.

"Thanks for looking after him, that's really cool of you."

"Same to you, that's what friends do though huh?"

"Yeah."

•••

"Good evening Blaine Devon, would you care to accompany me to find the absolute best coffee in Westerville?"

"Of course."

Kurt seemed to have a miniature debate within his head before he stuck his hand out towards me. It was something so simple, benign, a hand. One used hands for everything, often forgetting that they were even there, but when offered a hand by another, it was suddenly so much more. It was a life ring saving me from drowning, an unspoken promise that, if I held on, I would be okay.

All I wanted was to be okay.

I took it, of course, he seemed to relax a bit as I squeezed it, a soft cotton smile playing across my features. Neither one of us let go until we reached Kurt's car, earning us many foxy grins on the way. 

We parked in the main part of Westerville and decided to walk around the glassy snow-covered streets. Eventually we voted just to go into the first coffee shop we saw, which turned out to be a very classy looking place, everything modern glass and squares, leather couches and geometric tables. 

The barista looked exceedingly bored, "Hi, what do you want."

"A Medium Drip and Grande Non-fat Mocha, please."

"'Kay, they'll be ready in a couple minutes."

"Thanks."

We leaned up against the counter waiting, when the steaming cups arrived we made our way to the table nearest the window, where we could watch the bundled pedestrians mingle in the frost. 

We had only been seated for about five minutes when the door opened with a frigid gusto and three middle aged women came in. The immediately reminded me of my mother's friends, classy, shallow, and rude queens of gossip. I saw them looking at us over Kurt's head, he was still completely oblivious and was rattling on cheerfully about the pros and cons of a new shampoo that was in a magazine. This was not going to be good.

One of the ladies approached us with a revoltingly fake smile plastered across her primped lips, "Excuse me, if you don't mind, we don't want to have our gathering interrupted by, well, shall we say, distasteful people like you." She cocked her head and gave a look that was apparently supposed to be apologetic.

Kurt stiffened with obvious fury, "I'm sorry."

Another woman came to join the current one, "Well young man, Julianne here was just trying to tell you kindly that homosexuals are not welcome here."

"Excuse me ladies, " god I hope I can stop this, "My friend and I were just trying to have a nice coffee, if you don't want to be near us then you could sit at a table across the room."

"We always come here, you don't have a right to tell us what to do, now please leave before you cause this to become any worse than you've already made it." Could grown up women REALLY be this immature? 

This cracked Kurt, "And so you have the right to tell US what to do? We weren't even bothering you. You approached us and ruined OUR afternoon, you could have perfectly well left us alone and you know it, " the whole shop was pen-drop silent by this point, glued to the unfortunate commotion at our table, "We did not cause this situation, you did."

"How rude! Gays really are terrible people." Julianne's voice was so calm and chiming.

Like my father's.

Not now, not now. I needed to get out of here before I lost all cause to breath. 

"Kurt," I mumbled tugging on his sleeve, "Come on, let's just take our drinks and go."

"Blaine, we can't let them win!" He hissed back, already puffing up for a steaming battle of words.

I needed cold, now, "Kurt, please." I grabbed both my cup and his arm, pulling him up and out before anyone else could say a single word. I didn't stop speed walking until about a block later when I practically fell onto a park bench. I placed my face into my hands, sucking in air at an alarming rate, Kurt sat beside me with his face upturned, shaking, livid. 

"It really shouldn't hurt after all this time," his voice sounded small, like a cat caught in too tall of a tree, finally he was deflating.

"But it does," I finished for him.

"It does. God I wanted to hit them so bad! I still do!"

I couldn't stand it anymore, I yanked off my blazer, loosened my tie, and rolled up my dress shirt sleeves. Finally sitting up, breathing better.

"Blaine, you're going to get frostbite."

No Kurt. Please don't do this I thought. I can't not right now, I can't. As much as you make me comfortable, I still need this. I begged him with my eyes to drop it. To please just let me freeze.

He huffed out a frozen cloud of air, "fine then, the guys told me not to hassle you about it. I just can't help but worry though," Kurt's voice was calmer now. 

"We might as well still try and make something out of the afternoon..."

"Yeah, I guess."

We both sounded so dejected, it was sad.

"The library is just a couple of blocks that way, why don't we go there. Get you out of the cold."

"And you." 

It hurt deep that he cared so much about something he wasn't going to be able to fix.

•••

The smell of books was calming in itself, yellowing pages, dusty covers. The smell of hidden dreams and tremendous adventures. I was washed over in that great tide of quiet voices and crackling paper. Neither of us really knowing what to say, we headed to a secluded corner of the library, the one with the old encyclopedias, no one was going to bother us there. It was silly because we had both been stabbed in the exact same way and knew precisely what the other was feeling, but we both too humiliated and beaten down to know what to do.

"I'm sorry." I whispered.

"Not your fault."

"Doesn't help."

"I know. Believe me." I do.

I reached across to squeeze his hand quickly, the burns were still too fresh on my mind, so I didn't let my grip linger, but I hoped it helped.

It helped me.

Kurt sucked in a breath and then let it out as a shaken sigh, "So...um..."

"Yeah..." We both searched for anything to talk about.

"What are you planning on doing after high school?"

"College, then I don't really know. What about you?" I didn't like talk of the future, I wasn't sure I would exactly get one.

"Well, I want to go to New York, they say don't settle on a location, settle on an occupation, but I can't help it, I love New York. The parks, the plays, city lights...the freedom."

"New York is pretty great, what do you wanna do there?"

"Well, I mean I've always dreamed of broadway, but kind of in the sense of how every middle school boy, except me of course, dreams of being in the NFL. It's not realistic really, but it would be so great."

"Same here...I actually did like football in middle school..." Oh those days.

"Seriously? I can't imagine you playing. No offense of course."

"Nah, you're good. I never played on a team or anything, I like sports but I like music better."

"Ah, but yeah so I think I want to do something in fashion design. While it is still incredibly competitive, there are more job opportunities, and I love it."

"You would be good at that. It's a pity that you're fashion side is being quenched by Dalton's uniforms."

"You have no idea. What do you want to do though?"

"Well my thoughts are the same on musical theater, but other than that I honestly have no idea what I want to do." 

"Well you've got time."

"I guess..." It's not like I'll actually get a choice when it comes down to it. Whatever my father wants, I will do. 

And I will hate myself for it.

Suddenly Kurt was rambling, seemingly trying to force it out before he lost the will, "So, I asked my dad, and he said yes, now I know it's a really long drive, so if you don't want to it'll be fine but-"

"Kurt!"

"Yeah?"

"What is it?" He was too cute when he got nervous. 

"Would you like to come to Friday Night Dinner with me next week?"

"Oh Kurt, I couldn't. That's a family thing."

"But my dad said it would be fine, and Rachel Berry comes quite often."

"And look how much you can't stand it when she does."

"I hate her in general Blaine, not just during dinner. Anyways, I need someone there to suffer with me, I hate going to dinner alone when she's there." So if I went I would get to meet the lovely girl...great. I couldn't possibly impose though. But look at his hope filled face! How could I refuse?

"So you're sure it would be just fine?"

"As long as you don't mind the drive." If Kurt was there, any drive would be worth it.

"I'll come." I was still unsure, but what could I do.

Kurt's face slipped into a glowing smile, "Oh! I can't wait! This'll be great!"

I couldn't wait either. Especially if it promised more smiles like that exquisite one.


	8. Chapter 8

"Soooo, I saw the spy and you flirting around, holding hands, bouncing with star-crossed love." He was making smooching faces while running around as, what I supposed was, a princess/fairy thing.

"Shut up Thad."

"But you two were so cuuute!" He wiggled his fingers in my face.

"You're ridiculous, you know that right?"

"My mother tells me every day."

"You don't even call your mom every day Thad."

"If I did, I am sure she would say it."

"Whatever, what did you need anyways?"

"Oh! Right! Well Wes refused to do my essay so I was wondering if you could do it?"

"Excuse me?!"

"I. Was. Wondering. If. You. Could. Do. My. Essay."

"No!"

"Why nooot?" He flopped over on my bed, an octopus of flailing limbs.

"Because! It's YOUR work!"

"Ugh, you're no fun Blaine. I'll go ask Nick I guess, though he wouldn't do nearly as good a job at is as you would."

"If your trying to compliment me into doing your homework, it's not working."

He threw his hands up, "Just thought I'd try."

"And for the record? No one is going to do your essay, stop wasting time and write."

"...nah, I'll keep asking...See ya Lover Boy."

"Yeah, yeah..."

Simon skidded in the door as Thad left, "Hey! You wanna do my essay?"

"Sorry...?" Simon looked up at him with stark indignation. 

"Thad! Don't pick on the suite-mate! Not cool."

"Again, just thought I'd try."

Simon watched Thad prance down the hall, looking at him like he was a new parasite discovered in Buckingham Palace, "Did he seriously just ask me to do him essay for him?"

"Yup."

"Why?"

"Because he's Thad, cheater of the Dalton entrance exam."

"Do I even wanna know?"

"Probably not, no."

"Right, so I was thinking we could start with science today?"

"You always want to start with science, I can't stand science!"

"Don't rip my heart out know Blaine, watch your comments. Science has feelings too."

"I prefer to think of it as a heartless monster, but fine, we can work on science..."

"Yes!" Simon nudged up his glasses and jumped onto my navy comforter (people were doing a lot of that today).

"Whatever, lets start this torture."

•••

Flashing lights, taunts, fists, knees, kicks, screams. Blood littered the concrete like newspapers launched out of a second story window. Soft black fabrics torn, stained, with the caked evidence of their crime. It was torment beyond any experience, pain beyond comprehension. My world broke the moment his dying calls ceased, the moment I knew that these malefic devils had won. I felt the scrape of cement against my bones, the fire that shot down my spine, the hands pounding, pulling, tearing, harder and harder. 

I gasped awake, shackled in my sheets, sweat drenching me to the core. I couldn't stop heaving in air, shaking in the remnants of haunting memories. Through the veil of darkness I saw the flash of eyeglasses and the outline of a pale face wavering in the doorway, slowly he approached me, like an antelope trying to comfort a mad lion.

"Blaine?" Simon whispered, his voice cracked with sleep.

I swallowed thickly, "I'm-I'm fine."

"You were having another nightmare..."

"I know, sorry."

"You don't have to be, do you want to talk about it?" He seemed unsure about the last remark, saying it more because it was protocol for night frights.

"No."

"Ok, how about I just turn on this lamp then?" I nodded slowly, the warm light flickered on, casting its yellow shadows around the room. Simon's face glowed in the eerie way things do at one in the morning.

"Why-why are you waking me up this time?" My voice was stunted from the night.

"I guess because I know you now? I didn't want it to awkward or anything earlier. I'm sorry I never woke you up before."

"Its alright..."

"So are you gonna be ok?"

"I'll be fine."

He didn't seem convinced but he knew his place, "Do you want the lamp on?" It seemed so childish, light. But it was oddly comforting to be able to see.

"Yes please."

"Night then Blaine, sleep better."

"I'll try."

I didn't even try and go back to sleep, I sat on my bed, knees tucked up to my chin, and watched the steady slip of snow out the dark window. When the halls became light enough to not be frightening, I padded out of the room, guitar in tow, and sat in the common room, strumming random chords in a never ending melody, not bothering to join anyone for breakfast.

•••

As much as my friends (especially Kurt) were remedies to my plight, the nightmares increased as Christmas break loomed ever nearer. 

"Blaine, you've got to eat. I refuse to let you go until you have something."

"I'm not hungry Wes."

"Blaine, face it, you're tiny. If you try and run out on me I can pick you up under one arm and force feed you."

"Being 5''8' isn't actually that short Wes..."

"Shut up and eat Blaine."

He shoved a plate of toast at me, I pushed it back, he picked up the bread and put it in my hand, gripping my wrist until I promised to eat it. On the days that I didn't join anyone for breakfast, Wes had taken to bringing up food for me. I made him promise not to tell the other guys what was going on (I think they all knew though, except Kurt. I couldn't worry Kurt, not now). Wes would sit there and rant at me until I finally gave in, Wes could break anyone I swear, and ate a bit of toast. He tried to get me to eat other things too, but eventually just gave in to my love of carbohydrates and stuck with toast.

"Eat ALL of the toast Blaine. You're getting too skinny, eat."

"I'm fine Wes."

"The more you say it the less I believe it, eat the freaking bread."

"I feel childish..."

"Well if you ate we wouldn't be sitting here on the couch fighting would we?"

"Lots of people skip breakfast Wes...."

"And lunch? No, they don't. Look, I believe there is something bigger going on here, and someday I am going to figure it out, but for now all I can do is try not to let you starve yourself." Please don't Wes, please don't try and figure it out. I trust everyone here with my life, don't kill me now."

"I'm fine Wes."

"Eat."

•••

What does one wear when they are meeting their crush's parents? Of course, I have met them all before, but briefly, and going over to their house brings everything to a whole new level. I only had about half an hour before Kurt and I were planning on leaving (why did I always wait until the last minute? Gah!), and I still was just staring blankly into my closet. 

"Ooh! What's going on here?" Nick ogled at my closet.

I thumped down on the floor in defeat, "I'm going over to Kurt's for dinner and I don't know what to wear."

"SERIOUSLY?"

"What? Yeah..."

"No, wait, you're going over to KURT'S?"

"Yeah..."

"OMG! Blaaaiine! This is HUGE, you're like totally dating now!"

"Did you really just say omg Nick?"

"This is what the cuteness of klaine does to me!"

"Klaine?"

"Yeah! That's our nickname for Kurt and you when we talk about you two behind your backs."

"Okaaay, but seriously, what should I wear?"

"Wow man, you are head-over-hees, this is the first time you haven't been able to dress yourself."

"Shut up and help Nick."

"What? I don't know! You're the gay one."

"Gee thanks."

"It's true man."

"You said 'OMG' earlier, I think you can help plan an outfit."

"Fine, but no complaining if it's ugly." He tapped his finger on his chin exaggeratedly, "Ok, wear these shoes, and this shirt, you can pick out your own pants."

"And bowtie!"

"Yeah, sure, whatever."

"THANKS!"

"Go get dressed."

"Ok!"

Nick skipped out of the room (I never actually asked him what he needed...), and I looked at the ensemble spayed across my bed. Glistening black boat shoes, a white dress shirt, and a soft black blazer. I placed a pair of red cropped pants beside this (was red too blaring to be wearing to dinner? Who knows) and then put a black and white picnic blanket bowtie on top of it all, like some kind of jeweled crown.

Once fully fitted out in my dapper apparel, I grabbed my leather satchel and headed out to meet Kurt in the main commons. 

A few minutes later a bedraggled looking Carver came striding down the stairs like a bored giraffe, "So yeah, Kurt sent me down to tell you that he is running a bit late, and I'm here to tell you that it's because he has changed his outfit like five thousand times. Don't tell him I said that though. The only reason I am actually here instead of making him come is to warn you that if you don't compliment his outfit he will freak out on me every time he gets dressed for the next year and a half...and also because he deserves it."

"Don't worry Carver, I'll make sure to tell him, not that I wouldn't anyways."

He just smirked down at me, "good," before barreling off down to the cafeteria. 

"I'm sorry! Did Carver find you? I didn't mean to keep you waiting! I-"

"You look...fantastic..."

"I-oh? Thanks." He reddened high on his cheekbones.

It wasn't Carver's orders that controlled my words, but I. I was breathlessly enamored by Kurt's appearance, by Kurt himself. His hair was coiffed high on his head, a black and white coat fitted snugly around his slim waist. I felt like I had just fallen off a diving board and landed hard on my chest, the possibility of regaining air wasn't even an idea.

"So, are you ready to go?" I nodded, Kurt chuckled quietly at me. I then noticed his suitcase and tried to reach for it when I was stopped by my own bag being pulled off my shoulder, "Hah! I'm the gentleman now Blaine Devon!"

I huffed in mock disappointment and stuffed my hands in my blazer pockets, Kurt leaned over and whispered in my ear, "You look quite fantastic yourself." And now it was my turn to blush merrily.

We were each taking our own car, so I could return to Dalton later in the evening. I opened the passenger door so Kurt could place my almond bag inside, "So I'll just follow you there then?"

"Yeah, traffic shouldn't be to bad."

"Alright see ya there then?"

"Okay!" He smiled with all his teeth, crinkling those lucid tropical eyes.

He looked so handsome out there in the snow, creamy pale except for the rosy spots on his cheeks and his perfect pink lips. Snow lightly dusted the tips of his topaz hair, his shimmering emerald scarf cascading from his neck in rivulets of soft cashmere. I watched his black boots crunch a path of steps in the snow as he made his way over to his car before I climbed in mine. 

I followed the glare of his headlights through the snow, highways, side streets, wondering just what home was to him. Would it be like the guy's houses that I camped out in for days over the summer, escaping the empty cavern of antiquities of my own home (of course they never knew the real reason for my stays, just that my parents were "away". It was never a problem though, their parents loved me)? Would it be warm? A library of photographs and stories? Would it reflect their lives in the way any normal home should? I was so immersed in this whirlwind of wonder and want that I almost missed when Kurt's Navigator pulled into a driveway on a quiet little street.

The house was pleasant, windows lit with soft glows that spread across the white lawn like old candles, two stories but still cozy and petite. 

It looked the way home should feel.

Kurt tapped on my window to get me to unlock the car, "Coming in?"

"Yeah-yes, sorry."

"You're fine." His eyes twinkled like a little child's under a Christmas tree.

I followed him up the three steps onto the covered porch, he slipped a key out of his pocket and unlocked the door, releasing a gush of delectable smells. 

"I'm home!" His voice sang through the steamy interior, his bag forgotten at the foot of the stairs, I placed mine in the same fashion.

Standing behind him nervously, I bit my lip less than conspicuously, waiting for whichever occupant of available to appear. It turned out to be Ms. Hudson (I think she kept her last name anyways...maybe I'll just go with the less polite but still acceptable "ma'am").

"Oh! Hello boys! It's so good to see you!" She enveloped Kurt in a stifling hug and the reached out and patted my arm.

"Hi Carole! Where is everyone else?"

"Oh they're just washing up for dinner, they'll be down soon. How are you Blaine?" Oh wow, she remembers my name.

"I'm good, thank you ma'am." Good, that was an improvement over fine right?

"You can call me Carole, dear."

Or I can stick with ma'am...

"Yes ma'am." She let out a small "tsk" but let me stick with my formal nature.

"You two can put your things up later, dinner's almost ready."

Finn came bounding down the stairs at a speed that verged on dangerous, "Hey dudes!"

"Hi Finn," Kurt replied in fond exasperation.

"Nice to see you again Finn."

"Blake, right?"

Kurt sighed, "It's Blaine, Finn, Blaine."

"Right, sorry dude. So, Mom, what's for dinner?" We started our walk towards the kitchen. I tried to take in everything as fast as I could, the house seemed to be everything I had hoped it was, a box of memories and lives on discreet display. It was formed on comfort rather than reputation, and that made my heart squirm with conflicting emotions.

"Well I made spaghetti, but instead of tomato sauce I made alfredo," she turned towards me, "I heard you weren't a fan of red sauce Blaine."

"Anything would have been fine-"

"No! Dude! Stop right there! I hate red sauce too, only Mom doesn't listen to me, only you 'cause you're the guest and stuff. You just like totally saved my night man."

"Um...you're welcome?"

Kurt let out a squeal, "DAD!"

"Hey bud!" Mr. Hummel practically lifted Kurt off his feet, "How are ya kiddo?"

"I'm great! Dad, you remember Blaine right?"

"Oh yeah," he firmly pumped my arm, "Nice seeing you around again son."

Son, my own father never calls me "son".

"You too sir."

"Burt kid, call me Burt."

"Yessir." I received about the same response I had gotten from Carole earlier.

"Hey Finn," Kurt called across the kitchen to where Finn was clandestinely trying to eat spaghetti out of the pot. He slammed the lid back on with a shrug as we all turned to him, "I though Ms. Berry was joining us for dinner."

"Oh no, she decided not to come over until later, she said she couldn't stand eating any more non-vegan meals." Wow, this girl was quite the character.

"Oh, pity."

Finn apparently didn't understand sarcasm, "Yeah, I know right?"

"Hey boys, mind helping with setting the table?" I of course followed them over to Carole, who was holding an armful of dishes, "I didn't mean you Blaine, you're the guest."

"I don't mind. I'll help."

"Alright then," she handed me a fistful of silverware, which I proceeded to place ruler line straight around each plate, earning an approving cocked eyebrow from Carole.

Once the table was set Finn and Mr. Hummel flopped down into chairs, I stayed primly behind mine, waiting for Carole and Kurt to bring the spaghetti over and be seated.

Burt studied my actions closely, "Where'd ya get this one Kurt. He's got manners."

"Dad!"

"What? He does!"

Kurt and I sat down neatly after Carole had done the same (I resisted the VERY strong urge to pull Kurt's chair out for him, I didn't want to give his dad the wrong impression or anything), "Thank you for having me over, it's very kind of you."

"We're glad you could come kid, it's nice to meet some of Kurt's new friends. And you're a nice change from Rachel Berry."

"Hey! She's my girlfriend!"

"Yes," Carole mumbled, "unfortunately she is..."

"You're in that glee thing too right?"

"The Warblers, yes I am."

"Yeah, Rachel's been trying to get me to join for like ever now."

"Why don't you?"

"Kurt really hasn't told you? Glee club at McKinley is like total social suicide, man."

"Oh, well at Dalton glee is like the coolest thing you can be in."

"Weird..."

"Do you like to sing?"

"Oh yeah!I love guitar and the drums too!"

"His drums are the most obnoxious things EVER." Kurt moans.

"Drums are awesome man, they're awesome."

"I think drums are cool!" Kurt shoots me a look.

"Blaine plays guitar, Finn."

"Awesome! We should totally play something later!"

"Sure." I smiled politely.

"Blaine dear, would you like any broccoli?" Carole cooed from her end of the table.

"No thank you ma'am, I'll stick with the pasta."

"Blaaaiiine...eat your vegetables." 

"Fine, ok, I'll take a piece Carole."

"Is Kurt on to you about your food choices too kid?"

"Oh yessir, every day. He can't seem to accept my undying love for bread."

"And dessert..."

"Yes and dessert."

"Hah! He's been onto me now for years, he has literally called Carole everyday and quizzed her about what I ate that day."

Carole patted Kurt's arm, "I think it's sweet."

"I think it's insane," Finn stuck his fork at Kurt's face, "Kurt cleaned out like ALL the good food out of the house."

As the new family bantered on about food, I sat back and enjoyed the calming atmosphere.

This was a home.

I smiled softly as they challenged each other and laughed with each other, they worked together like gears in a watch. It was fascinating. 

Then I heard my name and the word Christmas in one sentence, "So are you excited for Christmas break, Blaine?" How could Carole know that she was about to go into territory that could potentially ruin my night.

"Um, yeah, sure."

"You don't sound very excited," Burt eyed me from down the table.

"Well Christmas at our house is more like the kind of affair where you have to use five different forks at every meal."

"That's a lot of forks dude." Thank the lord for creating Finn, one could always count on him to break up awkward conversations.

"It's formal Finn, you wouldn't understand it." Kurt chided.

Burt was still looking at me from across the table and Carole was looking at Burt, I sunk down a tiny bit in my chair, trying to avoid their good meaning stares. I think Carole noticed my sudden lack of conversation because she switched the topic pretty quickly.

"Hey Finn, why don't you call your dear girlfriend and ask what time she is coming over, we can have some dessert when she gets here. 

"She's not gonna eat it if it's not vegan, Mom."

"Well then she can sit and enjoy watching you eat it. Now go call her."

"Guess that means dinner's over," Burt stood up and began to carry some of the dishes over to the sink, swatting Carole's attempts to help away with a sponge.

"I can get it sir."

"Nah kid, you're the guest, go do something fun with the boys."

"It's good, really, I'll get it. You can go watch the game that I know is on."

"You like football son?"

"Yessir, I do."

"What's your favorite team?"

"The Buckeyes, I'm a college football fan."

"Ah, OSU, good team."

"I'll help Blaine with the dishes Dad, go relax."

"Stop worrying about me bud, some dish washing isn't gonna ruin me."

"Go relax Dad."

"Fine, fine..."

"Sooo what do you think of my crazy family."

"They're wonderful." Oh you have no idea how much I want this Kurt, no idea.

"Ah, they're alright."

"Well they seem to care about you a lot."

"Yeah, they do."

"I think it's great that you all get along so well even after just a short time."

"Well it can be kinda weird sometimes, but I don't it's really the fact that my family just suddenly doubled that bothers me. It's that it doubled and I'm not even around."

I didn't really know what to say to that, at all, so I just let out a quiet hum and continued scrubbing abstract patterns of sudsy bubbles onto plates.

We were standing side by side at the kitchen sink, Kurt with a hand towel, and me with my blazer sleeves rolled up, arms immersed in water. The light from the kitchen reflected off the small window over the sink, reflecting our faces instead of revealing the quiet world outside. 

It felt so achingly normal.

"I like your house."

Oh, I did not mean to say that out loud.

"Thanks."

As we finished the last dish I could feel Kurt side eyeing me, he bit his lip and then turned towards me, "Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

"You're welcome here, anytime."

I couldn't really meet his eyes, "thanks."

He moved directly into my line of sight, forcing me to look into his serious opalescent eyes, "I mean it Blaine. Anytime."

I just nodded and whispered a quiet, "Thank you."

We stayed silent, lost in our own thoughts until we heard Finn sprint to the door and jar it open like a rifle shot, "Rachel's here!" He boomed out, unnecessarily loud.

"Oh god..." Kurt slumped against the counter.

I prodded his arm gently, "Should we at least go say hi?" 

"Yeah, we probably should."

Together we made our way into the living room, the Rachel girl (seeing as she was the only girl in the room it was safe to assume that it was her), spun around, "Oh, it's the traitor boy, how could-Oh My God! You're Blaine Anderson! From the Warbler's? You sang a solo at Regionals last year. We didn't compete against each other but I make it my goal to keep close track of every remotely good glee club in the region. You probably already know who I am."

Wow, ok, that was an overwhelming and slightly creepy introduction. Rachel was like a foot shorter than me, which is saying something, and looked like a molecule of toddler and another of grandma had been smashed together in a fusion to create this insane thing called Rachel Berry. I could already tell that her visit was going to make it a long evening.

"Um, hi, yes I'm Blaine. You must be Rachel."

"So you HAVE seen me perform! Was I good? No that's ridiculous to ask, I am always PERFECT, and of course you liked it."

"I told you she was insane," Kurt murmured into my war. I didn't even know how to talk to her, like she was still talking now, ok I'm just gonna go with the smile and nod. Oh it seems to be working, that's good. Wow she is really close to my face, this girl has waaay to much energy. She is seriously starting to freak me out. Is she still talking about herself? Oh, yes, yes she is.

Wow.

"Hey mom? Rachel's here! Can we have dessert?"

"Sure, you all can just have it in there, Burt and I are going to hide out in our room, watch the game and stuff."

"You're going to watch the game?" Kurt shot Carole a quizzical look. 

"Shh," Carole pointed at Rachel and then made ridiculous eyes. She sat down a plate of exceedingly enticing brownies and scurried away.

"I almost wish I could go join them, which is saying something because I would never otherwise go anywhere near a football game, even on TV."

"Oh my god! Those aren't vegan are they! Finn, you know I can't eat that!" And look at that, she was off ranting again.

"Boy is she endearing." I whispered over at Kurt, my face running with sarcasm. I handed him the dessert plate, "Want a brownie?"

"What do you think?"

"Oh live a little Kurt. I ate some broccoli you can please me by eating a brownie."

"You ate A piece of broccoli Blaine, ONE."

"Well then you can have ONE brownie." I picked one up off the plate and stuck it in his hand, suddenly feeling very much like Wes.

"Hey dude! Wanna come over here and share those?" I knew Finn was a nice guy, but he was also huge, and that generally freaked me out. I guess I was just going to have to get used to him like I got used to Carver though, I mean they were practically clones of each other.

I scooted over to the couch a bit warily, "Thanks man," Finn gurgled out as he stuffed his face with brownies. He and I spent about the next ten minutes nodding and pretending to listen to Rachel while we ate the whole plate of tepid brownies.

It was actually kind of awesome.

"I can't believe I am actually here with two enemies! I mean what if you were secretly spying or something." I chuckled thinking about Kurt and how half of the guys still called him The Spy.

"You think that's funny? Show choir isn't funny Blaine Warbler, it is serious, do you here? Now tell me your set list."

"Um, no thank you."

"Well if I'm going to sit with enemies I might as well get some kind of reward."

"Were aren't actually 'enemies' Rachel" Kurt pointed out, "I was in glee with you for like a year and a half."

"I don't care! You a freaking traitor Kurt! How can I trust you after you abandoned our club to go join the enemy?"

"Hey Rachel, cool off my brother ok?" Wow, I just earned like a thousand new points of respect for Finn. 

"No! He just ran out of McKinley! We all get bullied, how come he gets to abandon glee?"

"It's not like you actually cared about me when I was there..."

"But you were a part of the club! You can't just quit and switch sides! That's treason!"

"I was receiving death threats Rachel!"

"So? You can't just quit!"

"So? SO?! You would put glee over my LIFE? God Rachel! I want to slap you so bad by now!" By this pint Kurt was standing up rigid, his voice about five octaves higher than usual.

"Rachel seriously cool off Kurt."

"No I won't!"

Ok, I don't give a freak wether or not this is my house and that this is Finn's girlfriend or that what I am about to do goes against all rules of acceptable social conduct.

No one gets to talk to Kurt like that.

I puffed out a breath and stood up, "Rachel? I don't like what you are saying. I don't like the way you're saying it. And to be honest? I don't really like you at all right now. Don't you dare EVER speak to Kurt like that again. Do you understand? Not ever. Now I think it would be best if you left."

"Excuse me?"

"I think it's best if you left."

"Finn?"

"Rachel I think we need to talk, but not now ok? I'll text you a time ok?"

"Are you breaking up with me Finn Hudson?!"

"I don't know, "As he got up off the couch I heard him add under his breath, "But I think I'm leaning that way."

Finn escorted Rachel out of the door, I sat down heavily, completely drained. Never in my life had I done anything that rash. Ever.

I looked over at Kurt who was still standing, instead of looking upset though he was gaping at me like I was some kind of lustrous green alien.

"Oh my god."

Finn came back into the room with his shoulders drooping, hands stuffed down into his pockets.

I couldn't stand it any longer, "Look I'm sorry, I know that it wasn't my place at all. Especially because this is your house-"

"Blaine shut up. Just...shut up. That was...amazing. I have never seen you mad like ever, not even slightly aggravated, so yeah it was surprising. But just-stop talking-you were amazing."

"Seriously dude, that was cool of you."

"I really am sorry that it didn't work out between you and Rachel Finn, I never have liked her, but I liked seeing you happy."

"Yeah, it sucks. Like I knew she was mad about all this and stuff, she kept dropping little comments, but she has never gone off like this..."

"I'm so sorry..."

"Wait, what? Dude, no, you're my bro, that is like way more important. Stop saying your sorry ok?"

"Ok...you know I really am glad that Dad didn't hear that, if he did I think we would be calling the police over Rachel's dead body..."

"Dude me too, you have no idea...so we're all cool right?"

"Yeah."

Finn turned to look at me, "Of course."

"Alright then, lets stop moping around and do something...oh! How about a guitar-off between Blaine and me!"

"I get to judge!" Kurt jumped up. I am pretty sure neither of us were going to be truly letting the old topic drop, but it was a huge relief to have a distraction. Finn has no idea how much he helps.

Finn flew upstairs with a clattering of shoes and returned like two seconds later with a really nice looking acoustic guitar, "Ok, since it was my idea, I get to go first. You ready for this, private school boy?"

"Bring it."

"Alright!" He ended up playing some kind of cover of Johnny Cash's "I Walk the Line", it was freaking awesome. This guy has a VOICE, like he seriously needs to get over himself and join glee club. Like now. 

I mention this to him and he just tells me to shut up and play, so I do. I play "Hey there Delilah" by the White Stripes because it reminds me of Kurt. Of how someday he's gonna be in New York and I am going to be here working my heart out to try and join him. I think Kurt gets my message because my the end of the song he is giggling breathlessly, which I find way too endearing, and blushing pink fire. We play around like this for quite awhile, losing ourselves in the chords and words and acoustics. Finn pretty much sticks to playing classic rock while I go on the path of top-40 covers and the occasional indie pop. With Kurt being our judge, Finn doesn't win a lot of rounds (he actually only wins two with "Don't Stop Believin'" because Kurt has always secretly liked that song and then again with his rendition of "Bohemian Rhapsody" just because he made Kurt almost cry laughing) I however earn a little smile every time I play to him, play for him. 

I sing him everything I can think of, half the time I barely even know the lyrics or the tune, so I just sit there and play and make a fool out of myself, but here in this home, no one cares. I sing him my usuals and when he asks for broadway I sing him a sweet love song, and when he asks for a ballad I do my best to find the cheesiest one. And I think he is starting to realize that I truly mean the lyrics.

At the end of one of Finn's songs, Burt appears in the doorway, "So you gonna stay the night Blaine?"

"Oh no sir, I'll drive back to Dalton."

"Kid it's already ten o'clock, with snow out you won't be getting to Westerville until around one in the morning."

"Oh! I didn't realize it had gotten that late! I'm sorry, I'll leave now."

"Kid, there is no way I am letting you drive all the way back to Dalton in the snow at midnight."

"I'll be fine."

"No, you're going to stay here. Kurt can give you something to wear and we can set up the air mattress somewhere."

"I couldn't possibly impose, I have already stayed way past what is appropriate."

"No arguing, you're staying here ok? I'll go get the mattress and set it up in Kurt's room...wait...ok I want the truth. Are you two dating or anything? Because if you are, there is no way you two are sleeping in the same room."

"No we aren't-"

"No, Dad, no-"

"Just friends Mr. Hummel." Though I wouldn't mind being more...

"Alright, just making sure...don't decide to suddenly start dating tonight though ok?"

"DAD!"

"Ok, ok I'll just go set up the bed." He put his hands up and proceeded to make his way up the stairs.

"Finn began putting up the guitar, "Dude, you are like a rockstar, it's freaking awesome." He patted me on the head (holy freak he was tall!).

"You're not to bad yourself," I chuckled.

His face turned as serious as I ever expected Finn's to be, "Look, sorry about Rachel." We just nodded, and he made his way up to his room.

"So I guess I'm staying here tonight..."

"Yup, you are."

"I really didn't mean to stay this long..."

"Well now we just get to hang out all of tomorrow too, stop worrying about it Blaine. We are all glad to have you."

"...okay."

"Come on, Dad's probably almost done with the mattress, I'll get you some pajamas."

We passed Burt right before we entered the abode of Kurt Hummel, "Alright, everything is set up. Don't stay up too late and don't do anything stupid."

"We'll try not to Dad."

"Alright, I love you bud, goodnight." Ooh, wow, I think I just about burst with jealousy (not the mean kind, I just wanted someone to tell me that so bad that it HURT."

Kurt gave him a tight hug, "Night, Dad."

"Goodnight Blaine, it was nice to see you."

"Thank you sir, it was nice of you to have me over."

"Of course, goodnight boys."

And then I entered the true world of Kurt Hummel.

It was life had been taken and squeezed out into the room. A bulletin board held every kind of broadway poster and about five cover pages of the latest Vogue magazines. His bed was layered in shades of mauve, maroon, and dairy cream, all fluffy pillows and tumbling comforters. The carpet was thick around my feet (which had long since been bare), curtains framed the windows, distorting the light through the thin colored silk. 

"So, yeah-um, this is my room." He waved his arms around.

"It's great, I love it."

"Thanks! Now let's find something for you to wear," he started shuffling through numerous drawers on his deep stained dresser until he finally pulled out a neatly folded blue t-shirt and a pain of dark plaid pants. "Ok so the bathroom is right through there, you can change and then get settled in. There should be an extra toothbrush and stuff.

I took my clothes and put them on carefully, reveling in the feeling that they were KURT'S and I was wearing them. Yes the shirt was a tad bit too long along with the pants that I continued to step on with the backs of my heels, but they were soft, and smelled like the sweet vanilla flowers of Kurt's bedroom.

Kurt had already changed when I went back in, long sleeves, dark green pants, and a cute pair of shag slippers, "Do the pajamas work?"

"Yes, thank you."

"Welcome, I'm going to go do my nightly moisturizing routine, and then we can get to bed. Sound good?"

"Sure."

"Ok, you are welcome to anything over there while you wait," he gestured over to his statuesque bookshelf. I ended up just scouring over the titles, seeing what he enjoyed reading, and to see if I myself had read anything. I came across a book that mentioned something about courage in it's summary, and I suddenly felt quite brilliant. Taking a purple marker and a loose sticky note that I found on Kurt's dresser, I got to work. I traced out the letters and painted on little swirls and tiny decorum until the sticky note was bursting with purple lines and I stuck it straight in the middle of Kurt's cork board. When Kurt finally finished his nightly routine, he immediately notice the note, smiling softly at it, but not mentioning it in itself. Because those were the kinds of people we were.

While Burt had told us not to stay up late, we were essentially having a sleepover, we were going to talk, it was inevitable. We first started out with usual sleepover topics: romance and celebrity crushes (Kurt like Ryan Gosling whereas I fought for Orlando Bloom as he was in "Lord of the Rings", we decided to agree to disagree on that) but eventually when we both quieted down, we knew that there was still a large topic that needed to be discussed.

"Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"You're still upset about Rachel aren't you?" When he didn't say anything I added, "It's ok if you are, I would be."

I heard a sigh before he started to speak, "It's just the fact that she takes my life so lightly. I could die and as long as she won Nationals she wouldn't give a freak."

"Was she that...I don't l know...egotistical, when you were at McKinley."

"Well she was still self-centered, but at that point at least we were all generally on the same level. She didn't care about me at all though, not until I left for Dalton, and now it's like, without me, she thinks glee club is going to fail."

"Well you do sing Adele like a god." He snorted out a thanks, "Do you miss McKinley at all?"

"I guess I do miss a couple of the other glee kids. They were all generally good people, they were just too scared of getting bullied more to actually stand up for me or be my true friend."

"Do you, um, do you think you will ever go back?" My voice sounded pitifully small.

"Blaine, when I was at McKinley, I didn't last a single day without absolutely dreading school. At Dalton though, I don't think I have dreaded anything at all."

"Good." I whispered.

We were silent again for awhile but then I heard Kurt's bed squeak and saw his silhouette sit up in the dark, "Blaine?"

"Mmh hmm."

"Please don't like hate your friends forever or anything but I just thought that it would be unfair not to tell you..."

"...what?"

"That-that um, I um, I know about your panic attacks." He rushed out the last part, sounding almost frantic.

I was not prepared for that. At all.

"I-I overheard some of the guys saying they were worried about you, and I was worried too because I knew that Wes was practically having to feed you himself, but I didn't know why. So later I cornered Wes and Trent in the hallway and made them tell me what was going on. They were pretty vague about the reasons behind everything, actually they didn't really say much at all except that you have nightmares and panic attacks and that the cold makes it better." Kurt was stumbling over his words now, he sounded almost scared, scared about what I was going to say.

He didn't really have to worry though, it was almost a relief that he didn't have to find out by catching me in one of those terrible panics.

"I want to help Blaine, I don't know what to do, but I want to help."

"You already do."

"How?"

"Just-just by being around..."

"Look Blaine, I'm always going to be here if you need anything ok? I really want to know the reasons behind everything that's going on. We pretty much are all in agreement that there is something more. Obviously the guys know a lot more than I do, but it isn't there right to tell me. When you are ready to talk it should be on your own terms, not ours."

"Ok."

"I'm alway here though, if you need me."

"I know. Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"It'll be fine, I promise."

"You always say that..."

"I do."

Neither of us really felt the need to end the conversation before we drifted off to sleep, because in the backs of our minds we both knew that this wasn't truly over. As I drifted off into a world of thoughts and dreams I heard Kurt's light voice reach out in the dark towards me. I guess he thought I was asleep, I don't think he would have said it if he knew I was awake, he may have wanted me to know, but I don't think he would have said it.

"Courage, Blaine."


	9. Chapter 9

A pair of glasz eyes peered down at me over the edge of an everest of blankets, "Good morning Blaine Devon." Kurt's voice was even, proof that he had been up for awhile. He looked so cute, just the top of his face visible, latte hair in adorable disarray. 

"Um, hey, how long have you been up?" I mumbled groggily.

"Not too long, I didn't want to leave you alone though, I think that would be weird."

"Oh, thanks." I reached up to scratch my head. My head, ohmygod, my head.

Freak.

"Sorry about my hair..."

"Aw! I think your curls are cute!"

"Don't lie."

"No! No, I really like them!"

"I don't believe that..."

"You should! Your hair is so cute! I mean it's cute when gelled too, but I like it curly also. I promise."

"Whatever...might you have some gel that I can use though?"

"Hmm," he clambered out of bed, all long legs and skinny arms, "I'll see what I can find. If I do happen to have anything in my never ending stock of products though, it won't smell like raspberries."

"I might be able to live..."

"I thought we could eat a quick breakfast and go out for coffee, how does that sound?" Kurt's voice reverberated out of the bathroom.

"Sounds fine, are we going to the Lima Bean?"

"Unless you object, but otherwise yeah."

"No! The Lima Bean is great."

I heard the sound of Kurt rummaging through cabinets, "Ok, um so I found a really old jar of gel, I honestly don't even know where it came from though, I don't think anyone in this house has ever gelled their hair, but I guess you can pretty much find anything in my cabinet."

"Old gel will be better than no gel."

"Not sure if I agree but whatever."

"Um, Kurt?"

"Yeah?"

"What am I supposed to wear?"

"Oh! Carole has already washed your clothes from yesterday."

"She what?"

"She washed your clothes from yesterday."

"But-why-she didn't have to, I-"

"She knows that Blaine, she's just a mother, she does those kinds of things." My mother has never done those kinds of things.

"I, um, wow...ok..."

Kurt stuffed the neatly pressed stack of my clothes into my arms and waved me to the bathroom, "Go change."

"Ok."

I came out in my same ensemble as the day before to find Kurt in unearthly tight white pants (ohmygod) and a maroon coat that stopped just above his knees. He was observing his hair skeptically in the dresser mirror as he.carefully coifed it high on his head. As I watched him curl and spray with hairspray, I carefully took apart my air mattress, folding it up and setting it on the end of Kurt's bed. 

"You look nice," he hummed without straying from his current task, instead he eyed my reflection.

"Same to you." I seated myself primly against the wall, knees tucked high against my chest, just watching him.

He finally finished his hair, his facial, and finished zipping his caramel dipped ankle boots, waving for me to follow him downstairs.

The kitchen was quiet except for the low hum of the teapot, (Carole was apparently an avid green tea enthusiast) it looked peaceful, undisturbed in the natural light of a December morning. Finn was still asleep, and Mr. Hummel was already at work, so Kurt and I just made toast, not bothering to make anything that involved steps, which was fine with me, toast was great. Carole came in the kitchen as her teapot started to scream like a far away freight train.

"Hi boys, you're up!"

"Hi Carole!"

"Good morning, ma'am."

"How'd you all sleep."

"Fine."

"Good," better than I have in about a week because the boy who I like to a point of insanity was breathing just a few feet away in the dark.

"That's good, are you going to go out anywhere today?"

"Just the Lima Bean."

"Well that's somewhere."

"Yeah," Kurt chuckled, "So far it beats out any of the coffee in Westerville."

"Oh god yes..."

"Just so I know how much to prepare, and either way is fine with me, are you planning on staying for lunch Blaine?"

"Oh no, I should probably start heading back to Dalton after we get coffee."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am. Thank you for everything by the way, dinner, letting me stay over, my clothes."

"It was nothing dear." 

No, it was everything to me, and it hurts that it is truly nothing, truly normal, for everyone else.

•••

The world had long since lost the skeletal arms of late fall, instead it was all buffered in the white quilt of December snow. Kurt stalled outside the frosted glass doors of the Lima Bean, "You ok?" I asked, slightly worried at his furrowed brow.

"Yeah..."

"You don't look it."

"Wow Blaine, thanks."

"Sorry, just-"

"Nah, you're right, stop apologizing. I'm kind of afraid of running into people I know..."

"Well if you were, it WOULD probably happen here."

"Way to make me feel better."

"Sorry, it'll be fine though, I promise."

"Guess so..."

"We can go someplace else if you like."

"No, no I can do this. Courage right?" He side eyed me with a wink.

"Right." This was the first time he had ever mentioned our private sentiment, I think it took us both for a turn because we both just stood watching each other for a moment, our mouths adorned with shy smiles.

He puffed out air from his cheeks, "Let's do this."

I held open the door to him, letting out a sickening blast of old heat. That was the one thing I hated about Winter (other than Winter Break of course) everything was heated to a stifling point. We ordered our coffees as usual, I paid (after using his house for the past night I definitely owed him something, however pitifully small). We had been making small talk about the various assets of our calculus teachers, Kurt had Ms. Evertole who was about the sweetest lady anyone could ever meet, whereas I had Mr. Calvinson who was archaic, strict as a sergent, and always smelled vaguely of potted meat, when Kurt's ineffable eyes blew quite large and he froze.

"Oh. My. God."

"Um...?"

"Oh, wow, wow, ok, not good."

"Kurt?"

"See that table over there?"

"Yeah..." I followed his gaze over to a table off in the dim recess of the back corner, A saw a blonde girl who was chatting animately to the other person, her bright ponytail swinging as a sparkly pendulum. The other person could only be made out by a glorious mane of black waves.

"They were from glee."

"Really?" This was the first time I had encountered Kurt's old acquaintances, minus Rachel of course, but it was general protocol to subtract Rachel from the equation before she tried to become the answer.

"Yeah," his voice was low," the blonde one is Brittany, the one who isn't facing us is Santana."

"Are they..um, are they generally ok?"

"Well Brittany is kind of stupid, she doesn't really get anything, but yeah she's nice. Santana on the other hand can beat you up with a blink of her eye, she is a pretty angry person."

"Oh," I don't tend to care for angry people," So who are they, like other than glee club."

"Cheerleaders," and I thought glee club wasn't cool," Yeah they are pretty much clones of the plastics from 'Mean Girls' they had this girl who was kind of their leader. They followed her EVERYWHERE, and when she got pregnant," oh?" Yeah, pregnant, these things happened in a school that is co-ed Blaine. But anyways, so she had to quit the cheer team, and then Rachel Berry convinced her to join glee club somehow, and so her two plastics followed her, except they still cheer."

"Doesn't sound like you respect them all that much."

"They're fine I guess, Brittany was one of the nicer glee kids, mainly though because she never had any idea what was going on."

"Grande Non-fat mocha and Medium Drip." The barista pushed the styrofoam glasses towards us.

We sat down and continued our discussion on the pros and cons of calculus (Mr. Calvinson hogged all the cons) while Kurt watched the two singing cheerleaders with an owl's gaze, "Oh my god, she saw me, oh freak she got up, ooh she grabbed Brittany, oh freak, not good," Kurt hissed, I flipped around and stared quite obviously at the proof of Kurt's statement strut towards us. 

"Porcelain." It was not a greeting, just a statement. 

Kurt sat up taller and looked up at the pretty Latina girl through his light eyelashes, "Santana," he looked behind her to the blonde, who was smiling off into middle distance, "Brittany."

"DOLPHIN!" Oh now she was looking at him, and hugging him, and not letting go...

"Nice to see you," he squeaked out despite his lack of air.

"Let go of my girlfriend Lady Hummel."

"So you are together finally? Congrats, you came out." He sounded bland, cold.

"Shut up, who's your playboy."

Who does she think she is, "Excuse me?!"

"Not together then? You look at each other like you want to lick the other's face off."

"Santana this is Blaine, be nice."

"Nice is not an emotion I frequent Lady Lips."

"Dolphin! Dolphin! Come see what I bought today! Come ON!" Brittany had latched onto his coat clad arm and was pulling with the force of a leviathan.

"I-um-Brittany..." He sighed.

"Go with Brittany, Porcelain, I'm gonna talk with this over-gelled prep school mannequin.

Brittany dragged Kurt out, dragging the toes of his boots of the floor as he scrambled to keep his shoulder in it's socket, "Um-I guess I'll be right back.." He managed to call before being thrust out into the snow globe of the parking lot.

I tried to get up so as not to be left with this increasingly scary woman when a copper hand latched firmly around my wrist, "Woah there Prince Charming, Cinderella Boy will be back in a while."

"Um.." What do you say to such an intimidating person?

"So you and Hummel huh?"

"You can call him Kurt you know."

"Defensive much?"

"He has a name."

"Fine. So you and KUUURT?" She sucked, as what I supposed was supposed to be seductively, on a coffee stirrer.

"Friends."

"Yeah right," she scoffed and leaned back, propping her stiletto heels up on the table in a very uncouth fashion (how does one not kill themselves walking in six inch heels on black ice? The wonders of this female...)

"Just friends."

"Whatever, you'll be French kissing soon enough."

"Um..."

"Cat got your pretty little tongue pretty boy?" She leaned forward, waaay into my personal space, her shirt was very low cut to be leaning like that, though I have a feeling that low cut was the whole point.

"I thought you had a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't mean I can't look." What a person...

"So what do you want?"

"Someone doesn't play nice."

"No, no you don't."

"Oh, a little wit? Sexy."

"What do you want."

"Hummel-Kurt, sorry," she rolled her licorice eyes," Hates us doesn't he."

"Not my place."

"Oh pleeaaase, spill Hobbit."

"It's not so much hate as resentment."

"For what?"

"Letting him get hurt to the point where his actual life was in danger. Letting him get hurt at all."

Santana sat back in her chair again, sucking on the wooden stirrer, just twirling it in her mouth though now, looking unhappy. She sighed and spoke softly, "When I heard what his did I beat him up you know. Gave him a black eye and a broken nose, got suspended for a week, but Dave deserves it." She glanced back over at me, her face soft now, not stiff with adolescent anger. 

Although I didn't condole violence in any form, I liked to think that David Karofsky got what he had coming for him. I returned her lucid gaze, "Thank you."

"Mm." When her face was quiet you could truly appreciate how much this girl could glow with stunning beauty, true beauty. If I were straight I think I would be a melting puddle of hormones on the floor right now.

"Does Kurt know?"

"About what I did? No."

"He might like you a bit more if you did."

"I hate myself for it you know, for not doing a single thing? I was too caught up in my own rise in popularity. I knew that if I helped out the gay kid it would all go to waste. I hate myself for it. After Kurt transferred I kind of realized how awful I had been, I was so angry with myself that I took it out on Dave, not that I regret beating him up though. I came out too finally, I guess I thought that if Kurt had to go through all that crap when no one did anything, so should I. I have Brittany though, he had nothing." In just a few minutes she had changed completely, instead of an angry mare she was now just looking at her cuticles, slouched down with regret.

"Tell him. Tell him what you just told me."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"It's not that easy you know." Not that easy to expose yourself.

Yeah, I definitely know.

"You could tell him for me?"

"No, not my story to tell."

"God, you're so freaking honorable..."

Honor is part of reputation. It's what my family runs on.

"All the glee kids feel bad too, except Berry but she doesn't count. We all miss our gay diva."

"Maybe you should all tell him that. He's still probably going to be mad, and I don't blame him, but it would probably help."

"Yeah, guess so....we'll see."

Suddenly Kurt was being pulled back in the shop, his scarf unraveled and face pasted with the sort of look one gives a two-year-old who has had one too many lollipops, "it is very nice Brittany, I'm sure he will love it."

"Yes! He will! Hey Tana, Kurt liked it!"

"That's great Britt," she gave a warm smile, the kind I could safely assume was only meant for her girlfriend.

I raised an eyebrow at Santana, signaling that if she wanted to try and win back Kurt's good graces, she had better do it now. She rolled her eyes but detached Kurt from Brittany's fierce grip and led him off to her former table," We gotta talk, Cinderella Boy."

"Sorry Blaine," he shrugged as he passed me.

"Are you Kurt's Dolphin?" Brittany had sat down across from me, looking at me with wide eyed whimsy.

"Um...I don't know..."

"Santana said that she and I were also like Dolphins too, she said if Kurt was a Dolphin, then we were too." She was so matter of fact, like she had no idea how dumb she sounded.

I was going for the off chance that Dolphins had something to do with being gay, "I guess I am a Dolphin."

"Are you Kurt's?"

"I'd like to be."

"You have shiny hair."

Wow, change of subject, ok, "Thanks?"

"It's pretty. I like that it's shiny."

"Yeah...thanks...."

"I like Santana a lot. I think you like Kurt like I like Tana."

"I think I do too."

"She's nice to me."

"She cares about you."

Brittany just nodded, staring off into her imaginary space that was probably filled with all kinds of ponies and unicorns. So we sat in a peaceful silence until Kurt and Santana returned. Santana led the way, followed by a very confused looking Kurt.

"See you around maybe Porcelain."

"Yeah...maybe..." His voice was soft, bewildered.

"You ready Britt?"

"Yes!"

"Bye Prince Charming, have fun sucking your Princess' face."

"Um, right, bye Santana."

Kurt and I figured we might as well leave, seeing as our coffee date had been well and thoroughly interrupted. We took the remaining dregs of our coffees out to my Lincoln and sat down, Kurt letting out a sigh as he stared straight ahead, "I don't know what to do..."

"She told you everything?"

"Wait, she told you everything?" He was facing me now, "I thought she was just hitting on you or something."

"Isn't she a lesbian?"

"Yeah, but she's also Santana."

"Okaaay...but back to your earlier question, yeah she told me what I assume was everything."

"I can't believe she beat up Karofsky."

"She's a pretty scary person."

Kurt's laugh was dry, "Yeah, I-I want to be mad you know? After she, well everyone, turned so many blind eyes. But I just can't, not after she beat him up, and especially not after she came out. That's-I don't even know what to think...."

"Do you think you could be friends again?"

"I don't know, I sort of hope so but I don't trust her yet at all, and I wasn't ever her friend in the first place..."

"That's reasonable."

"She said that Mercedes and Tina, two other glee girls, wanted to see me, but unlike Santana, they actually have my phone number. If they want to see me so bad why don't they just call?"

"I don't know Kurt, I don't know."

He rubbed his hand over his face and took a gulp of air, "Do you have to go to Dalton straight away?" He sounded desperate.

"No, no I don't, " I said, quiet in the little car, "Would you like to go somewhere?"

"Sure, anywhere."

I tried to think of anywhere that I knew that would be close, "Is another library okay?"

"Libraries are always okay, Blaine Devon."

Now that is my kind of answer, ten points for Kurt Evan Hummel.

"What did Brittany have that she was so excited about?" I had just realized that I hadn't yet asked.

"A new bed for her cat. She lives for her cat I swear. She had to show me like every single detail about the cat bed, like seriously, they aren't that cool!"

"I really don't like cats."

"They're fun to watch but I wouldn't want one."

"I like dogs though."

"If you could have any dog what would it be?"

"A spotted Great Dane."

"Seriously?"

"Yeah! They're so cute!"

"They slobber everywhere though..."

"Yeah but their cuteness makes up for it. What dog would you get?"

"A Pomeranian."

"What! Kurt no. Big dogs are sooo much better."

"I disagree."

"You can't like run and play and stuff with a small dog though! They just sit there and bark!"

"But little dogs can cuddle!"

"They're just like little fluffy dolls though! What are you supposed to do with them."

"Cuddle, Blaine, they're good for cuddling."

"We will be, once again, agreeing to disagree."

"Fine, fine...have your big dogs..."

We both continued to watch the snow dusted road.

"You know something?"

"Hm?" I side eyed him as I began to drive.

"You really look a lot like Prince Charming."

"No I don't!"

"No! No it's a compliment! I always like Prince Charming! You look a lot like him! Like your hair, eyes, skin, demeanor."

"Demeanor?"

"Well duh, you're both quite charming."

I chuckled at that as I drove on into the midday winter sun, out towards the Lima Public Library.

"Well then, for the record? You're so much prettier than Cinderella."


	10. Chapter 10

Upon Kurt's reasonable request, I went Sunday morning to check on Pavarotti. At Dalton, Jeff had long since been dubbed the Warbler keeper. Mostly it was because Jeff was a generally phenomenal person, but I believed that he also had a certain affection to the fat little birds. 

I knocked on Jeff's door to find not Jeff, but David, still in his pajamas, "What up, Blainers."

"Is Jeff here?"

"Yeah, he'll be back, he and Nick just went to check on Wes. You here for the bird?"

"Wait, what's wrong with Wes?"

"Came down with some cold flu thing, I don't really know. It's nothing fatal or anything," David tried to reassure my shocked expression, "he's just been in and out of the nurse's office all weekend."

"Oh," I hadn't seen Wes last night now that I thought about it, and his room was closest to mine, "So he'll be ok?"

"Yeah, honestly he's the one who's the most worried, with the Christmas concert in two weeks and Sectionals right when we come back from break. He spent about two hours yesterday giving Thad and I an 'official' talk about all the extra practices we would need to schedule."

"But he'll be ok?"

"Stop worrying Blaine, he'll be smacking you upside the head with his gavel again in no time."

"Hey B!" Jeff waltzed into his room.

"How's Wes?"

"Depressed that he isn't allowed to go to classes for the next two days, which I don't really get, that sounds awesome, but otherwise he's just Wes. Instead of saying 'I feel like crap' he told Nick and I that he had 'a simply dreadful affliction'. Honestly Blaine? I think he'll live if he can still talk like that."

"Ok ok, fine I'll go see him later, Kurt wanted me to check up on Pavarotti."

"Oh yeah!" Jeff turned around an waved to the two bird cages on his desk (he was apparently keeping Tino's Warbler), "Here's Pavarotti, he's doing fine."

"That's good, Kurt was worried."

"Yeah he really likes the little bird huh."

"Yeah."

"They help don't they."

"They're good company if that's what you mean."

"Good company when you're lonely..." He eyed me from across his room.

Oh yes

•••

"Oh, Blaine! Pleased to see you." Wow. Wes seriously was sick. His voice, for one, was really nasal and dry. He was sitting up against his headboard, blankets tucked up to his chin, still wrapped in fuzzy pajamas, hair still tousled.

"How are you."

"Absolutely hideous, but other than that fine." Wes tended to be quite snappy when sick.

"You want anything?"

"Nah, nothing really sounds good except applesauce, and Trent already brought me three bowls of it."

"Um...ok..." I didn't really know what to do, I just stood awkwardly in the door frame, hands deep in my pockets.

"Make sure David and Thad behave tomorrow during practice ok?"

"Ok."

"And remind everyone that they HAVE to attend all the extra practices."

"I don't think that's really necessary. It's pretty common knowledge that if they didn't attend you'd stab their vocal chords."

"True, true. Just-yeah, make sure they come."

"Alright."

"Now leave me in peace unless you want to join in my ailment." He swatted me weakly towards the door."

"Ok, I'm going. I'll check on you tomorrow?"

"If you must..."

"Bye Westly."

•••

"Yeah, so we all know that Wes is sick, therefore Thad and I are in charge. We don't have a gavel, nor do we want one, so just listen up ok?" David really could step up and be quite mature when needed, "We have two weeks before Christmas break, then only one week after to finalize everything for Sectionals. Personally I think we are totally there, but Wes disagrees. So, the last three days of Christmas break we have mandatory practices that are going to last from nine in the morning to five in the evening. If home is too far away for you to drive everyday, Wes somehow convinced the faculty to let us start second semester boarding three days earlier."

Pretty much every guy in the room started mentally cursing Wes.

Thad picked up from there, "On top of Sectionals, we have the annual Christmas party with Crawford Country Day, as usual, we will be performing two numbers. In Wes' absence, we have decided against a long vote and instead have decided that we will be singing 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas' solo goes to Blaine, and 'Let it Snow' solo going to Cedric unless there are any objections." No one objected, the Christmas Party wasn't exactly the most important thing to have a solo in, it was mostly just to fill space. "Alright, we won't be doing any crazy harmonies or anything, just reading off sheet music, but yeah, we'll practice that later. Now our discussion about our annual Warbler Christmas Party will be led by Warbler Dane."

The slightly pudgy but good natured Senior stood up, "As per usual, we will be doing a crazy White Elephant, bring the weirdest thing you can find and bring it wrapped. Our party will take place at my house thirty minutes after the end of the school wide party, so that means it will start at 10:30, we are suspecting that it won't end until very late, so be prepared. Directions to my place can be found on the invitation," Dane handed out neatly folded pages of Dalton stationary.

The room started to hum with excitement, the Warbler Christmas Parties were about the best things that ever happened at Dalton.

After running through all our numbers for Sectionals a few less times than Wes would have liked, we all ran out of the room, ready to go thrift shopping or internet buying to find ridiculous gifts.

"What kinds of things are usually brought?" Kurt bounced up next to Trent and I.

"Well last year I ended up with a pair of fuzzy slippers that were supposed to look like Aardvarks. I don't even know what a real Aardvark looks like but I now have slippers shaped like them." Trent got out his phone to show us a picture of said Aardvark slippers, while excruciatingly ugly, they did look kind of comfy.

"What about you Blaine?" 

"I got a giant gold medallion that was embossed with the picture of a half naked mermaid, it was disturbing." Kurt wrinkled his nose at that.

"I don't even know where to find that stuff."

"Ask the seniors, they always bring the weirdest gifts."

"Freshman year I got a rock."

"That's not even like a little useful!"

"Neither is a half naked mermaid!"

"That's just 'cause you're gay Blaine."

•••

Kurt, Simon, Carver, and I were all spread across the various surfaces of Carver's dorm, Simon came along mainly because I dragged him, but he seems to be enjoying himself. At least, he is enjoying Kurt's company, he spent the past half hour steamily ranting down Carver about why science was important. He didn't generally appreciate any kind of person lacking knowledge. Simon could be intense. While their debate raged on, Kurt and I discussed his budding relationship with the glee girls.

"So I finally texted them because I don't think they were ever going to text me."

"And?"

"Well they pretty much stuck to the same excuse as Santana, that they didn't want to be bullied any more. So essentially that they didn't care enough about me to risk a bit and protect me like a real friend."

"So what'd you say?"

"Well I spent about three hours yesterday yelling at them via text, they seem pretty sorry now."

"Remind me never to anger my roommate," Carver whispered in my ear.

"Yeah, so after my fingers were about to fall off from punching the screen so hard, we decided that Mercedes, Tina, Santana, Brittany, and I would get together over Christmas Break to start solving our issues. As much as they hurt me, and as much as I love everyone here, I really need some estrogen once in a while." 

"Dude after what they did to you? You're just going to like, be friends again?"

"Well no, It'll take awhile I guess, but you know that I can't hold a grudge Carver."

"What about that bully guy, Dan or whoever."

"Ok, so I CAN hold a never ending grudge to Dave Karofsky."

"Where are you all getting together?"

"Brittany's house actually. Which really doesn't make since because she doesn't even know what's happening. She's only involved for Santana's sake."

"Maybe she invited you over so she could talk about her cat."

"Oh god...I didn't even think of that...she probably did..."

"Hey! I like cats," Simon glared at us from over the top of his book.

He would, wouldn't he. Simon, I swear...

"No, Brittany doesn't just like cats, Simon. She has an unhealthy obsession."

Carver had to butt in, "Kind of how you apparently like science."

"SCIENCE IS WHAT SOLVES THE MYSTERIES OF THE WORLD! Back off my love!"

"Your love? Really?" 

Carver earned himself an eraser to the face.

•••

Even though we did have white elephant gifts to give, I always liked to give my own sensible (or at least more sensible than say rainbow socks) gifts. I spent much of Saturday walking around central Westerville looking for presents. Wes and Simon were easy, I just stopped by the bookstore and got a dictionary and some book about the physics of soccer, the other guys though, would take some thought. After much deliberation, I finally decided that both Thad and David could use gift cards to the local bistro, they had been needing to find a classier place to take their girlfriends. For Nick, Jeff, and Trent, I decided that they could all use a scarf, because who can't use a scarf? And honestly, what are you supposed to get any of them? At the last minute before trying to find the important present, I went ahead and grabbed a football for Carver, he counted as my friend now too right?

The only problem left was Kurt. I stood in the snowy grass at the square between Main St. and Lincoln Ave. not having any idea what to get the boy whom I liked more than ice cream, a cappella, and Pink combined. I guess I stood their looking lost long enough because eventually a little grandmotherly lady, who was wrapped in one to many floral layer, approached me.

"Excuse me dear, but are you lost?"

"Um no ma'am, I'm fine."

"Well you look lost to me."

"I guess I'm just, well mentally lost?"

"Oh dear, that sounds awful. Are you ok? Why don't you get out of the cold." Oh god no.

"I'll be fine, really, sorry to bother you."

"Oh no dear, this is the most interesting conversation I've had all day. What can I do for you young man?"

Should I go for it? Honestly, what can a little old lady do? Well she could yell. If I don't ask, I'll stand here all day long. Fine. "Um...so..I guess-um..."

"Yes?" She was so tiny and innocent looking. Just go for it.

"Do you," I stuffed my hands in my pockets and huffed, "Do you have anything against, well, against gays?"

Her face lit up in comprehension, "Oh! Is that it? No, gosh no I don't, my sister has had a girlfriend for sixty years, she just got married in Boston recently."

Wow. Not expected. "That's, ok, um, tell her congratulations then?"

"I will, I will. So that's it?"

"Well no, actually. I don't know what to get the boy I like for christmas..."

"Oh, that's not to bad. Come on dear, you like coffee?"

"Um, yes ma'am I do..."

"Let's go get some then and discuss this boy of yours."

"I couldn't possibly..."

"Yes you can, come on. I'm Eloise by the way."

"Blaine, pleased to meet you."

Eloise led me across the street to a Starbucks, "Now I know it's not local or anything, but it's coffee."

"It's wonderful thank you." We both ordered and I payed, of course (there is NO way that I would ever let any lady, especially this nice one, pay), and then we headed to a pair of armchairs near the window.

"So tell me about this boy and we'll see what we can figure out."

"Um, ok, well his name is Kurt, he likes singing, fashion, and fancy foods. His hair is gorgeous, well actually, he himself is just generally gorgeous, and I'd like to ask him out sometime." It was nice to be able to get this out. Really it was something I should be discussing with my own grandma, not with someone else's, but that would never happen, Eloise would do.

She smiled at me softly, "I bet there's more to it than that, keep talking."

So I did. I told her about how we met, how he looked (stunning), how he made me feel (like I was melting and suffocating in a vat of caramel), how we loved coffee, about his audition song, his voice, our sporadic duets to radio songs in our dorm rooms. I told her everything I could think of. I guess she sensed that I needed to let this all out, so she just sat back and listened warmly as I babbled on about the wonders of Kurt Evan Hummel.

Finally I stopped, out of breath, and blushed at all I had said to a lady I barely knew. She looked thoughtful, "While I ponder all the gift ideas in my head, we can discuss that coffee issue of yours."

"Ok?"

"Well, for one, you are perfectly correct. Westerville tends to have generally awful coffee. But are you familiar with the Columbus area?"

"Yes, I actually live there. I'm just in Westerville for the Academy."

"Oh a Dalton boy! Well that DOES explain the exquisite manners."

More blushing.

"Well then, if you're familiar with the area, then I bet you can find it if you look it up, I don't know the actual address. It's this little tea parlor, and they have the best coffee I have ever tasted in my whole long life."

"Really?"

"Oh yes. It's called Ceai Mistic, the lady who owns it is Romanian, it's wonderful."

"I'll have to go sometime..."

"Definitely. Now that your date problem is solved though, lets think of what we can get your dear boy for christmas."

"Thank you so much."

"It's nothing, this is the most interested I've been in anything for about the past week." Eloise sat for awhile sipping the remains of her coffee when she suddenly shot up, eyes glinting, "I have the greatest idea!"

•••

Dalton boys were generally famous for wanting (and usually getting) girlfriends, but that was nothing to the Crawford Country Day girl's obsession with obtaining boyfriends. It was only about five minutes in to the Dalton/Crawford Christmas Party, and already the girls were batting eyelashes and twirling curled hair. The cafeteria had been converted into a sort of hollywood wonderland, every type of tinsel, ribbon, and wreath sprouted from the old wood paneled walls, and the girls were constantly trying to drag boys over to what they claimed was a patch of mistletoe (in reality, it was a pine branch). Of course, many boys did go to kiss a pretty girl under the "mistletoe", but I think I broke about ten hearts in the first five minutes of the party. The sad part was that it wasn't even a dance, just a banquet. We talked and ate, I charmed too many hearts that I would never date, and watched Kurt do the same...sort of. 

At first, Kurt would let the girls talk, ask if anyone was sitting by him, try and charm him, and Kurt would politely turn them down. After about thirty minutes of this though, I was on his right side dying of laughter, while girls came up on his left asking to sit by him, complimenting his hair (not his clothes, we were required to wear uniforms, much to Kurt's dismay) and trying to get a date. After this long, Kurt was steaming with annoyance, instead of politely turning down the hopeful girls, as soon as one approached him he would just go "I'm gay!" and wave them off. It was hilarious to watch the poor girl's faces. 

Thad came up behind me as Kurt swatted off another girl, "I told you they were crazy about him."

"Oh my god, you were right," my voice was breathy with laughter.

"I know! It's so unfair! The gay guy is stealing all the ladies!"

"Thad, how many girls have you kissed tonight?"

"Um..."

"Thad?"

"Three...?"

"You really are an awful person. Stop taking advantage of all the girls!"

"They agreed to it!"

"Oh my god...you're hopeless..."

"Well I've got more kisses than you have tonight." He whispered coyly in my ear.

"Shut up, I have a present for you in my car, but that doesn't mean I actually have to give it to you."

"You got me a PRESENT! YES! Best friend EVER!" My arms were suddenly full of Thad, who was hugging me with reckless abandon.

Wes (who had finally stopped being sick, which meant he had stopped being grumpy, we were all quite glad of his recovery) came up and tapped Thad on his shoulder."Thad, get off Blaine. It's time to sing."

"Oh! Christmas carols! Hey Wes, did you know that Blaine got us all presents? Blaine's the best."

"That's nice Thad, now since you somehow ended up as a council member, please help me round up the Warblers, I've only found twelve so far."

"Right, of course."

As Thad sauntered off, I swooped in and saved Kurt from a conversation with a girl who was wearing too much makeup. The two of us made our way over to the makeshift stage.

"I am sick of private school girls."

"Yeah, I could see that."

"After this performance, I'm going to go hide for the rest of the night."

"If you insist."

"I do."

"Alright, I'll join you then."

"I wasn't trying to rope you into ditching the banquet! You don't have to come!"

"I want to."

"Oh."

Suddenly Wes was back, trailing behind him were the last of the missing Warblers, "Alright, are we all ready? Blaine? Cedric?"

"Yes."

"Lets do this."

Wes turned around and tapped the microphone twice, "Good evening ladies and gentleman. I hope you are all having a wonderful time, "A couple of boys let out whoops, receiving a very disapproving eye from the Head Warbler, "Right, so lets begin, please welcome the Dalton Academy Warblers." A ribbon of applause ran through the crowd.

I stepped up to the mic, all the worries and panic seeping out of my pores until I could smile my most easy, bright smile. The harmonies started to build behind me until it was my turn to come in. In that moment, nothing mattered. I sang, I danced, I let go. It was splendid, just to be ridiculous and musical all at the same time. I was glowing like radioactive waste, I could tell, and I didn't care.

For the moment, life was perfect.

All too soon, the moment was over, I was left standing, out of breath, in front of a festive crowd. I backed up to let Cedric take the mic, as I joined the chorus, I caught Kurt's eye as he stood at the other end of the tenor section. He gave me a glorious smile.

Life WAS perfect.

Cedric finished his solo and we continued the chords for a few more seconds before it was all over and silence curtained over the hall. As we began to file off the makeshift stage, cheers and applause suddenly erupted, causing us to high five and fist bump whoever was closest to us. 

"That was awesome Blaine."

"Great job man," David patted me on the back before spinning off towards the buffet line for what I assumed was another piece of cake.

"Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, she's coming for me!" Kurt hissed as he began to yank my arm out the door.

"Ok, ok, come on, you can help me with something." We left the noise-filled hall and walked side by side through the dark silence of the rest of the school until we made it out to my car in the parking lot. The street lamps illuminated the quietly falling snow like fireflies, casting a halo-like glow over all the cars. Neither of us felt the need to disturb the peace with talking loudly so we kept our voices to hushed whispers.

"Blaine, what are we doing?"

"You're going to help me carry in gifts for the guys."

"Oh! Was I supposed to get stuff?"

"Nope, I was just bored last Saturday."

"Oh, ok, that's good."

"Alright," I unlocked my car, "We'll bring in all we can carry and then we'll come back for the rest ok? And sorry, but this does mean that you will have to brave the cafeteria again." Kurt huffed at this, his breath freezing in midair, but he grabbed some of the gifts.

We managed to actually carry everything, well everything except Kurt's gift, that was for later. By the time we got back inside, Kurt was shivering and blue, so I made him go fetch his coat while I started to search out the recipients. 

I found David easily, he had permanently stationed himself by the dessert table, "Hey David."

"What up Blainers? Having fun?"

"Yeah!" I held out his gift, "Merry Christmas!"

"Ohmygod! It's a present! Yes!" He ripped of the shimmery paper with reckless abandon to reveal his gift card to the bistro, "FOOD! B you're the best guy ever!"

"It's not just for you, it's to have a nice place to take a girl."

"Or it could just be for me, and I could buy like ten brownies."

"Fine, whatever, Merry Christmas David." I smiled widely as I went off in search of other people.

Thad was flirting with two redheaded girls at one table, so I just handed him his present with a quick message to be respectful and went off again. I found Wes, Trent, Nick, and Jeff all at one table with a couple of seniors.

"Hey guys, "I waved them over to the side of the room so as not to be rude, "Here's for christmas."

All of them except Wes ripped of the paper, Wes tore at it carefully, folded it, then put it nicely into his pocket (oh Wes). "It's a scarf!"

"Yeah!"

"I'm going to be gorgeous like Blaine."

"Shut up Nick."

"This is wonderful, thank you SO much Blaine, I'm so grateful."

"Of course Trent." Always so perfectly nice.

Wes was looking at me with huge eyes, "it's the brand new addition of the Webster's Dictionary."

"Yes it is."

"Oh my god."

"So you like it?"

"I like it so much that I actually want to do some PDA and give you a hug."

"That's serious then."

"Yeah it is."

"You can hug me you know, I don't actually mind." And for the second time that night I found my lungs crushed by a Warbler Council member, albeit that Wes' hug was much shorter than Thad's.

"Get a room boys."

"Oh shut up and let them hug, Nick." Jeff smirked over at Wes, "This is probably the most intimate we are ever going to see Wes be."

"I think it's cute." 

"Of course you would, Trent. You would think a zombified squid is cute."

"Maybe it's a cute zombie."

"One, squids are ugly even when alive, and two, where have you ever seen a cute zombie?"

"It could happen."

"Right, guys I still have to pass out some more gifts, I'll see you later ok?"

"See ya, B."

After much searching, I finally found Carver sitting with a couple of the athletes, "Hey man."

"Oh hey! What's up? Kurt just stopped by and asked where you were."

"I was trying to find you..."

"Ah, well he'll be fine for a couple minutes, what's up?"

"Merry Christmas."

"You got me something? Dude, you are like the best person ever!" He opened the awkwardly wrapped package (how are you supposed to wrap a football?), "Thanks man! This is a REALLY nice ball! I can't believe you got me something!"

"You're Kurt's friend, so now you're my friend. Merry Christmas."

"We totally need to hang out more."

"We hang out a lot."

"Yeah, but like, we should hang out with just the two of us. Kurt said you like football right?"

"Yeah."

"I would say we should go to a game, but I have no money of my own so maybe sometime you can come watch a game with me on my TV."

"How do you even keep that TV in your room without getting caught?"

"If they ever do room checks I hide it behind all the clothes in Kurt's closet. You could hide a car behind there."

"If he knew you touched his clothes..."

"Oh god, I know, you can't tell him."

"We're cool."

"Awesome man, have a good break ok?"

That's not gonna happen, I know that for a fact, "You too."

Now I only have to find Simon.

After asking around for awhile for a kid with glasses and mousy hair, some girls finally told me that they thought the guy I was looking for was hitting on their friend.

What? Simon? Hitting on a girl? Oh snap.

I walked over to where they were pointing and-oh my god-they were right. Simon was sitting by a dark skinned girl with long, fashionable braids pilled stylishly on top of her head, "Um, hey, sorry to interrupt this, uh, thing...but yeah...here you go..." 

Before I could hand Simon the package, the mocha girl gave me the most sparkling smile, "Hi! I'm Luci! Are you Blaine? If you are, Simon speaks very highly of you."

"I am Blaine, pleased to meet you," We shook hands gratefully, "Simon is quite wonderful."

"Aw, gee thanks Blaine. Luci? If you don't mind, I'm gonna talk to Blaine for a minute."

"That's fine! I'll be here."

"Ok," He dragged off out of her earshot, "Oh my god, Blaine! She asked me out! ASKED ME OUT! We're going to dinner sometime over christmas break! I'm so happy! Oh my god! I have a DATE!"

"Congrats!"

"I am saved from a life of solitude!"

"Ok, slow down, you just met her..."

"I don't care! I'M SO HAPPY!"

"Well then I'm happy for you."

"YES!" Simon was jumping up and down, his muddy eyes glinting through his glasses.

"I have a present for you."

"Ooh! Yay!" He opened the book, "It's soccer AND science! My dreams have come true!"

"I'm glad you like it! Look, I'll let you get back to Luci ok? Have fun, and have a nice holiday. Don't let all the little children kill you."

"I'll try not to, but we'll see. Bye Blaine." He skipped off (SKIPPED, Simon has never skipped).

On my way through the hall to find Kurt, I passed Wes again, his nose was already buried in his book. What is wrong with my friends? They ENJOY reading dictionaries. Well, at least one does.

"Blaine," I recognized Kurt's high pitched hiss.

"Oh hey! Alright, you have your coat?"

"Um, yeah? Why?"

"You didn't think I had got you nothing did you?"

"Um..I don't know?"

"Come on silly, let's go." And suddenly it was like we had gone back in time, because once again, my hand was clasped tightly into Kurt's. we were running through the still halls, jumping over long shadows and light from the tall windows until we reached the outdoors again. Kurt put on a pair of gloves and a warm scarf as the winter air pricked his face. I stopped Kurt when we reached a pool of light cast from the street lights high above, "Wait here ok?"

I left Kurt standing in the swirling fireflies of snow as I went to fetch the two packages out of my car, "ok, here is this one first." I handed him the rectangle that was swaddled in cream paper and tied up in a purple rose bow.

Like Wes, he tore it open carefully, like every moment he was trying to breathe in the perfect folds. First he found the box of cookies, "Blaine...are these what I think they are?"

"Well they aren't your toffee nut sandy things or whatever they are, but they had both caramel and toffee, so I figured they would work."

"They look delicious," his eyes were already wide with stark wonder, his voice quiet. Next he found the card, "You're promising me ten free coffees?"

"Yes, that way I can always be the gentleman and pay."

"That means ten more coffee dates."

"Well I was kind of hoping that we could go on more than ten." 

Kurt smiled shyly at that, but his blush was bright in the yellow light. He found the last thing in that box, a pair of light grey knitted mittens, "they're so soft."

"Can I, um, can I put them on?"

"Of course," I set my other package down carefully behind me where Kurt couldn't see it. I slowly took of Kurt's gloves, holding both of his pretty hands in one of my own. They were so soft, it was so intimate, we were both holding our breaths. I slipped each little mitten onto each of his little hands, then I just held them, looking at them for a minute. Melting into the domesticated thing we just did. It was so simple, yet so beautiful. I just wanted time to stop and let us stand like this forever.

"Thank you Blaine."

"There's still more."

"Oh?"

"Of course," I pulled the bouquet of purple roses and white daisies out from behind my back.

"Blaine...they're beautiful-oh my god! Is that a bowtie?"

"Yes."

"You tied the flowers with a bowtie?"

"Yes."

"That's so cute! Oh! It has little ferris wheels on it! I love it!"

"I'm glad! I wasn't sure if it was a little much, the ferris wheels and everything."

"It's perfect. It's all perfect. I love it. I kind of don't want to ruin the moment with my gift now..."

"Oh come on!"

"Anxious a little?"

"I like presents, what can I say?"

"Haha, ok, here we go. It's not wrapped, I couldn't fit a whole package inti my coat, but yeah..." He extended his hand, in it were two prices of paper.

"Tickets?"

"Why don't you read them."

"For RENT?!"

"Yeah, it's just the Lima area community theater, but it's still Rent"

"I love Rent! Thank you so much!"

"Merry Christmas!"

"I can't wait until..." I looked back at the ticket, "Oh it's right after Sectionals!"

"Yeah!"

"I can't wait!" Rent! Omg!

"So we still have like thirty minutes until we have to leave for Dane's house, and I don't really want to go back into the banquet yet..."

"Are you ok staying out here for awhile?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"Alright then," I grabbed his free hand and pulled him over to the hood of my Lincoln. We hopped up onto the hood, "Would you like to have some cookies?"

"Um, duh," he took a bite, "Ooh! These are good!"

We sat on my car, silently eating glorious cookies for awhile before Kurt spoke again, "So how did you think of all that stuff?"

"Um, well, I actually kind of got some help..." So I told Kurt all about Eloise (well not ALL, there are some things that he doesn't need to know...not yet). He laughed at me, or her, or both.

"So you got advice on present buying from a seventy year old lady?"

"Hey, she was a nice seventy year old lady. And you kind of admitted that she had good taste."

"She did, though I am assuming that the bowtie was all you."

"Well yeah, obviously, who else could find a bowtie with ferris wheels?"

"Only you."

•••

We probably all showed up at Dane's house way before anytime that was socially acceptable, but he lived like five minutes from the school, so what were we supposed to do? Anyways, I don't think that Dane's parents really minded, he had the coolest parents ever. I mean, they CHOSE to invite 28 teenage boys over to their house in the middle of the night, that's pretty awesome.

Their basement had been turned into some kind of temporary den, with blankets and pillows and places to sit. On the side of the room, there were heaping plates of appetizer-like foods, because even though we had just been to a banquet, we were teenage guys, we would be hungry again in five minutes. We all set our packages in the middle, most of them awkwardly wrapped with way too much tape, and many packages of really weird sizes.

Throughout the hours we ate, sang out of tune mash ups, talked, and played White Elephant. I drew one of the last numbers, so for now I just watched as a freshman got a crazy hat, that was then stolen by a senior, and then lastly claimed by Thad. I watched as someone got a back massager shaped as a creepy looking octopus. I watched as a freshman was convinced to try one of his prices of spicy mexican candy, as Wes got those aardvark slippers (apparently they had been recycled from last year...Wes' face was priceless), as Kyung Ju received my gift of a purple stripped jumpsuit that I found in a thrift shop. Kurt got a lovely salt shaker, it was plastic and looked like it had been stolen out of a pizza parlor.

"What am I supposed to do with this?"

"Nothing, that's kind of the point."

He just sat there and looked at it, completely befuddled by it's lack of use. Finally it was my turn, I went and shook all the presents (because who wouldn't?) and opened the heaviest one.

I won an overly large sack of corn flour.

Yay.

It was the most fun I had had in a long time, by the end our eyes were all wet and our abs ached from laughter. At two in the morning, we all thanked Dane's parents profusely, and then stepped out into the elements. 

Kurt and I said our goodbyes and then stepped off to the side, "Can we meet over christmas?"

"We'll see, I'll text you ok?"

"I'll miss you."

I really wanted to kiss him. My eyes were permanently fixated on his lips, I could feel all the emotions from the past months bubble up inside my chest cavity...

No.

No. I can't kiss him now, I can't.

I can't have the memory of our first kiss, my first kiss, tainted by the terrible events that were sure to come as soon as this night ended.

So I stepped back with an, "I'll miss you too." And let him go.

So I was alone, out in the darkness, the snow, the too early morning. And I was trying very, very hard not to break down.


	11. Chapter 11

So that plan about not breaking down?

Didn't work out.

At three in the morning, I found myself pulled off the highway, hyperventilating and shaking like an earthquake. I couldn't breathe and yet I was breathing all too much. My head was resting into my tucked up knees, the lights passing by didn't help to ebb my dizziness. All I could think of were the past christmases, with my grandparents chiding me for being a "terribly girly little boy who could never amount to anything", of my uncle's disapproving looks, of my cousin's refusing to talk with me.

Of my father beating me senseless once everyone left on christmas day.

After about an hour, my vision stopped swaying and my chest stopped stuttering enough for me to drive relatively safely. I was still shivering like a person with too much caffeine in their blood, but I untucked my knees from my chest, stepped on the gas, and drove. Downtown Columbus was eerie at four in the morning, the streetlights lit everywhere but the allies, creating the illusion of a cloudy day, but all the people were missing. I drove until I reached the old mansion, slipping inside as quiet as a jellyfish (the perk to staying out all night is that I could come home after my father had gone to bed), sneaking some provisions out of the kitchen, and looking myself up in my own prison.

•••

When I woke up the next morning around noon, it was hard to believe that I could already be this depressed when, less than twelve hours ago, I had almost kissed the most beautiful boy in the world. 

I couldn't get him out of my head, not that that was especially unusual, but every thought led me straight back to Kurt. I wondered how soft his lips would be on mime, if his eyelashes were long enough to tickle the bone of my cheek, if he could make my legs buckle, my head spin, have sparks fly up my back. And then I though of something that I hadn't wanted, hadn't dared to think in so long.

I wondered if he could make me feel warm.

My wonderland of the finer points of kissing was interrupted by the dinging of my phone. It had been sending off noises for awhile now, but it finally got to the point where I could no longer ignore it. I had about five thousand messages, or so it seemed. Honestly, I had seen everyone just last night, what could the already have to say to me? Not THAT much could happen in one morning.

Apparently, for my friends, it could.

Simon: Oh my freaking god Blaine!!!! She already texted me!!!!

Me: then why are you ignoring her to text me?

Simon: That is a good point! But I really just had to tell you!!!!

Me: all the exclamation points are going to make my drive a screw through my hand.

Simon: sorry...I'm just so happy that at least one girl doesn't think I am clinically insane!

Me: well yeah, that's good. Though I don't think any girl has ever actually said that.

Simon: Emmeline Derek said I was in the fourth grade.

Me: I don't know who that is, but she doesn't sound all that nice.

Simon: she scarred me into permanently being socially awkward for the rest of my life by her hateful comments.

Me: sorry man...seriously though, that was fourth grade, I bet if you weren't so scared of all the girls you would be getting thousands of date offers everyday.

Simon: remind me again when I ever said I was scared of women?

Me: I have a feeling that I should not answer that question. Go text Luci.

Simon: right...Luci. Bye.

I left Simon to Luci (or girlfriend? Who knows...) and then ventured on to my other texts, which were all from a Junior Warbler group text. I read through the previous messages so I had some idea what they were talking about (currently betting on how many cupcakes David ate last night...David, apparently, was still asleep).

Trent: I'm betting five.

Nick: He was at that Table ALL night, there is no way that he has enough self control to only eat five.

Jeff: true statement.

Thad: ok then, I'm betting twelve.

Nick: why don't we text him until he wakes up and then ask him?

Thad: YESS!

Nick: here we go...Oh Daaaviiiid!

Jeff: that's creepy, nick.

Thad: David! We're going to text you until your phone wakes you up! So you might want to skip all the annoying rings and just get up now!

Thad: no? Ok.

Thad: David

Thad: hey David.

Thad: what up D?

Trent: while Thad is annoying David, anyone know where Wes went.

Me: he's probably trying to ignore your incessant immaturity

Jeff: ohmygod! Blaine! You're up!

Me: yup

Wes: Blaine's right

Nick: aw, come on Wes, help us wake up David! Pleeeaaase.

Wes: no way, I have my morals

Nick: whatever man, miss out on the fun.

Thad: yo, man, wake up

Trent: please wake up David, I'd like to know how many cupcakes you ate.

Me: hey David!

Jeff: DAVID!!! DAVID!!!

Nick: Wakey wakey David

Jeff: now THAT has the potential to be creepy Nick.

David: oh my god! Take me off this group message thing! I'M TRYING TO SLEEP!

Wes: they want to know how many cupcakes you ate.

David: I think I ate seventeen, but I could be wrong. Happy now?! Yes, yes you are. MAKE MY PHONE STOP RINGING.

Jeff: okey dokey, bye David, sleep well.

Me: anyone heard from Kurt? 

Wes: he was on here earlier, I think he went to make lunch...

Me: is it that time already?

Thad: better question. Do you miss him already?

Nick: of course Blaine misses him already, they were making heart eyes at each other all of last night.

Jeff: don't even try to deny it man.

Trent: I think they're cute.

Nick: must we continue our squid argument from last night Trent?

Trent: someday I'm going to find a cute squid just for you.

Jeff: not just any cute squid. You have to find us a cute ZOMBIFIED squid.

Trent: someday...

Me: I'll talk to you later guys, I'm gonna go call Kurt.

Thad: bye Lover Boy!

Me: yeah, yeah

Jeff: ooh! He no longer denies it!

Nick: WE'VE FINALLY CAUGHT YOU! YES!

Me: yeah, shut up, see ya.

It was unnerving how I could switch from being frightened out of my wits, to perfectly light hearted the next moment.

It scared me.

Me: Hey Kurt.

Me: Kurt?

Me: are you making lunch?

Kurt: I'd ask your opinion on wether I should make tomato bisque or salmon for lunch, but I know you hate fish and you probably don't know what a bisque is.

Me: oh you are there! Hi! For the record? A bisque is a creamy type of soup.

Kurt: I am impressed.

Me: you should be.

Kurt: ah, what humble friends I have.

Me: how's life since I saw you a couple of hours ago? Apparently all the other guys have had fabulously interesting mornings.

Kurt: oh they're just gossips. My morning was fine.

Me: have you found a use for your lovely new salt shaker?

Kurt: nope, but I did find a sticker that says it came from that Best Pizza Express place in Westerville, proof that we have a thieving friend.

Me: I think that came from Christopher.

Kurt: ooh, a rouge freshman

Me: so what are you making? That creamy soup or a hideous fishy stuff

Kurt: the bisque, just for you.

Me: aaaw (blush)

Kurt: mainly because I was impressed that you actually knew what it was.

Me: hey, just because I can't cook doesn't mean that I don't know anything about fancy foods.

Kurt: what is Tomme de Savoie?

Me: umm...

Kurt: hah!

Me: are you actually going to tell me what it is?

Kurt: see you should learn to cook! 

Me: Kuuurt

Kurt: Blaine Devoooon

Me: what is this Tomme stuff

Kurt: it's a French cheese.

Me: oh, I thought it was going to be something awesome, like, I don't know, chocolate cake

Kurt: nope, it's a cheese

Me: have you noticed that we always seem to be discussing food?

Kurt: we are boys, it's in our hormones

Me: you never seem to eat anything Kurt.

Kurt: fine, so it's in your hormones

Kurt: how's home?

Freak.

Me: it's fine, what about you?

Kurt: don't change the subject. How's home?

Me: it's fine

Kurt: then how are you?

Me: fine

Kurt: don't lie

Me: ...

Kurt: Blaine?

Me: better now that I'm talking to you

Kurt: I can live with that

Me: I hope so

Kurt: if you ever need anything call or come over ok?

Me: yeah

Kurt: the water is finally boiling. I've got to go ok?

No, I don't want you to go.

Me: ok, see ya

Kurt: I'll text you later.

Me: alright, have fun eating fancy foods.

Kurt: will do.

•••

Two and a half days later, after long hours of texting, and longer hours wrapped up in living nightmares, I ran out of food. I noticed this after a particularly long nightmare during an afternoon nap. I woke up sweating, still shaken from the memories that were still so real, and even if eating was the very last thing I wanted to do, all I could picture was Kurt's worried glances and Wes' hand forcing food into my own. I looked through my dresser for the remains of my meager provisions, but they were quite well gone and eaten. After waiting ages until I figured I could risk a trip downstairs, I tiptoed through the house towards the pantry. I had just finished grabbing some crackers and granola bars, when the light snapped on.

Nononono....

"What are you doing?"

"I'm just getting something to eat..." I ducked my head against my mothers sickened glare.

"Why?"

"So I don't starve."

"If you behaved like a real boy, you could eat dinner with us and not steal out of the pantry." Real boy? Steal? Really?

"I can't change who I am."

"Of course you can."

"No, mother, I can't. I can't help who I am, I can't help that you choose to hate me for it. Please let me go."

"Such a disappointment. Sometimes I think it would have been better to follow my sister and remain childless."

That stung, hard.

"I'm sorry I disappoint." I whispered sadly.

"Your father will want to see you."

"I-do I have to?"

"Stop being a coward, take it like a young man should." A mother should not say such things to her child.

She swept out of the kitchen while I , stupidly, waited for my fate. How could I run when I was terrorized by blinding fear?

"Your mother said you were being disrespectful."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Shut up, you're sickening."

I didn't say another word after that.

The back of my head was slammed into the pantry door until I felt sick with vertigo, my back felt like it had been run over by a jet plane from all the times my spine hit the door handle. I couldn't think straight, everything hurt and nothing seemed real. It was one of my nightmares coming to life. My only saving grace was that my father did not currently have his belt on, so while I would bruise and knot, I would not bleed.

At least not tonight.

I don't remember when it all stopped, I just remember a foot coming down on my shoulder and a hissed warning to "behave yourself when the family arrives, or you will be sorry you even took a breath in this world." I laid, splayed out on the tile floor of the pantry, trying not to let the pounding of my head overtake all of my senses. I managed to stop dry heaving long enough to slide myself across the floor to the food boxes, the crawl my way upstairs with the last of my adrenaline. With two day left until Christmas Eve, I fell into bed with a black bruised spine, two lumps on my head, and a new ghost to slither through my sleep.

•••

After lonely two days spent lying in bed and taking as many pain medicines as possible without hurting myself more or breaking the law, Christmas Eve dawned with the promise of dreadfulness. 

My back still hurt, but my head just had a knot. No one bothered to ask what happened, they either didn't care, or were scared of the answer (not that they would actually get the truth if they asked). As more and more family members arrived, I was stationed at the door to hang up all the coats and scarves and bags, no one bothered to say much to me after what was necessary. Dinner was a loud yet stiff affair, filled with the latest politics and country club drama. I was at the end of the table with my cousins, five were in their twenties, therefore not bothering to talk to me at all, and the others were all about five. I did get my favorite little cousin to talk to me though.

"Hey Ollie, where's your mother." My Aunt Mel was my favorite relative, she actually cared about what I had to say. I kept looking for her warm smile, but she was no where to be found.

"I'm spending the weekend with Daddy."

"Where did your mom go?"

"She said she and Daddy aren't married anymore. Now I live with Mommy all the time except for once a month when I stay with Daddy." What?! Aunt Mel divorced my father's brother? I mean I'm not really surprised, his brother (while in no means is as terrible as my father) is not the nicest guy. But still.

"So I won't see her this Christmas?"

"No, but I wish she was here."

"Me too," Mel is the only good thing about Christmas, "Tell her hi for me ok?"

"Ok. Do you know when we're having dessert?"

Ah, innocence, "In about three more courses." We still had more silverware pieces and wine glasses to go through before we got to the pie.

One of my older cousins, Peter, leaned across the table towards me, "You got a girl yet Blaine?"

"No, I don't."

"Why not?"

"I-I just don't."

"Do you even like girls?"

"That's not your business."

"You still sing?"

"Yes."

His face twisted into a smirk, "Gay," he hissed under his breath like it was poison.

My old grandfather's head snapped up at that muttered word, "What did you say Peter?"

Peter stuck his head up with a snobbish arrogance, "I said that Blaine's gay." Gasps circled the table.

"What's gay mean?" Ollie was looking at me, trying to figure out what I had done.

"It's something bad, don't ever support it Ollie." Now she was looking at me with a little horror in her eye.

"My grandson is NOT gay. He can't be. I won't allow it."

My father's gaze was digging into me, daring me to say that I liked boys, I just ducked my head and stayed quiet.

Peter sneered, "I knew it." At this point no one was eating, all just starring at me with blatant shock. 

All the looks, the disgust, the pressure started boiling up inside of me. My hands started having tremors and I couldn't keep in a breath. If I didn't leave now, the whole family was about to see my secrets, "I'll be right back." I managed before standing up quickly and trying to get to the front door so I could get cold air.

"Blaine, you haven't been excused."

"I'll be right back!" The panic was becoming evident in my voice. My father and I were both standing up at the table now, waiting for the other to break. 

I snapped first, the panic had set. I started to run for the door, I made it all the way outside before I heard his quick footsteps behind me. A hand reached out and snagged the back of my suit, tearing at the material.

"Stop right now."

Nononono.

I reached the edge of the house, just as I was at the corner he tried to reach out and catch me. Instead he ended up pushing me, hard, with all the momentum from running I smashed into the brick corner of the house. 

I heard something crack and I almost blacked out, it felt like someone had taken an ax to my arm.

I think that's the moment I went mad. I couldn't stay, couldn't stay, couldn't stay. I remembered his threat from three days ago, I had messed up, I was going to pay within an inch of my life. 

I rammed straight into him, I was too small to actually hurt him, but I knocked him into the snow. I took off, I had to get my car keys, and GET OUT. 

With a wild look in my eye, I ran straight through the dining room (the room was no longer silent, but now essentially screaming about, well, me) and up the stairs. I don't think I could have ever made it this far if I wasn't so scared. Once inside, I started using my good hand to fling everything I had brought back into my suitcase. I had just zipped up the bag and was about to start looking for my keys and phone when my father appeared in the doorway.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Leaving."

"No. You will not disgrace us. You will NOT ruin me."

I became quite bold then, "You've ruined yourself a long time ago, I didn't do it."

He started advancing towards me then, picking up things to throw at me as I scoured my dresser for my things. Whatever he was throwing hurt, but not enough to get me to stop, at least not until he picked up the vase.

It shattered straight onto my shoulder, scraping and splintering into the skin there. I didn't think it broke any bones like the wall broke my arm, but it hurt, hurt, hurt, hurt....

I finally managed to grab everything and practically crawled out the door. With a last burst of energy, I pushed my way out of his reach and downstairs. I heard his yelling but I didn't care. I didn't care at the new yells and gasps as I sprinted through the dining room for the last time, blood seeping through my torn jacket. I jumped into my car and hit the gas, pulling out of the driveway to never come back.

•••

Once again I was in the eerie world of a sleeping city. I drove with my good arm, keeping my other arm and shoulder tucked up against my chest. I was still flying on the buzz of fear, but I knew it would soon wear off, I didn't want to drive bleeding AND exhausted. 

My mind wasn't thinking straight. I didn't wonder what my friends would think if I showed up at their house. I didn't wonder how I would explain to them. I just didn't want to sleep inside my car in this ghost-filled town. I turned on my phone, the bright screen temporarily blinding me, and picked a random name on my contact list. I was too far gone to care about who I was calling.

Someone finally answered on the fourth ring, "Hello?" It was Simon's tired voice on the line.

"Um...hi..."

"Blaine? Wha-? If you're calling to wish me merry christmas, I don't really care."

"Um, no..."

"Blaine? It's like one in the morning."

I can do this, "Could...could I come over?"

"Now?" His voice was low and scratchy.

"I really need a place to stay."

"What? Why?"

"Just-please..." My voice cracked at the end.

He was silent for what seemed like decades, "Yeah, yeah ok. I won't pretend to know what's going on, but you sound desperate. "

Thank god. I got his address and put it in the GPS. I told him I'd call when I finally got there. He lived about thirty minutes south of Columbus, but with my exhaustion and injuries, it took me much longer. 

I finally found his house, there were a couple of cars in front of it, so I parked down the street and called Simon again.

"I'm here."

"Alright, " He sounded even more tired now, which isn't surprising. I've woken him up twice now.

It was a good thing it was dark, he couldn't see me stumbling and limping. 

"Ok, I don't want to wake anyone up, so I'm not gonna turn on any lights alright?" Simon was a silhouette in the doorway. 

"Ok."

"I won't ask now because it's two in the morning, I'm just gonna go get some blankets and stuff for you. Tomorrow though, I am going to hear the whole story. You're scaring me Blaine."

I couldn't speak so I hoped that he could make out my nod in the dark.

"Here's my room, light switch is to your right. I'll be back in a minute."

As soon as he left I realized what an absolutely terrible, terrible idea this had been. I was just starting to panic in the dark when I heard Simon's footsteps padding back.

Nonono.

The light was switched on.

"Wha-? Oh...oh-oh my god..."


	12. Chapter 12

"Blaine-"

I had backed into a corner, it wasn't going to help, but I couldn't think a single coherent thought.

"Blaine, turn around. Let me see." Simon's voice was too calm."

"I can't, "I was choking on my own words now, "I can't."

"Blaine-"

"I can't!"

He approached me now, stepping closer as if I were a scared kitten. Gently he pushed me around so he could see where the blood was coming from, he hissed between his teeth, "Who was it?"

"I can't."

His voice started to rise now, "Who did this Blaine. Do you know them or did some random guy mug you or what?" When I didn't answer he lifted my head to stare straight into his eyes. They were glinting fiercely behind his glasses, "Blaine Anderson, at least tell me if you know them."

I bit my lip. Apparently that was enough of an answer.

"Crap." He started to pace the floor, "Crap, crap, crap! God Blaine, just tell me! It's not like I am ever going to let you back home anyway! You're my best freaking friend! I need to know who did this! Was it your father, mother, uncle? Who?"

"Yes."

"Which one? Your father?"

Again, I didn't say anything.

"Blaine, please!" I flinched at his yell, "Sorry, sorry. God, I don't know what to do. What else has he done to you?" 

"Is it your father?"

"I don't know what to do either..." That, again, was enough of an answer.

He looked so broken now, slumped to the floor, staring up at my stiff self, "I'm taking you to the hospital."

"No, you can't! You can't!" My panic was sliding back into place.

"Blaine, breathe, please? Just breathe. It will be ok. It doesn't seem like it, but it will."

"No it won't." I sounded like a child, but I didn't care.

"Just trust me."

"Why?"

"Because I'm your best friend, one of them anyways, and because...because I've been in your shoes."

"What?"

"I know what it's like. I never talk about my dad right?"

Oh god.

"He used to drink, all the time, and when it got bad he would beat us. I never talk about my dad because my dad is in jail. It seems like your world is ending, maybe even already over, but it's not. It WILL be okay, maybe not right now, but eventually. You always said that you were fine, and I'm pretty sure you lied every time you said that. Someday though, it's going to be the truth. You'll be okay, you'll be better than ok."

"I-" I didn't know what to say anymore.

"I know, and that's alright." I didn't remember sinking down onto the floor, but I was now sitting face to face with someone who had survived. Someone who had gone through hell and back, and was ok. But at that moment, all I could think of was how cracked open everything seemed.

"Please don't tell anyone."

"Some people are going to have to know."

He was right, I didn't want to believe it but he was right, "Then-just-don't tell the guys."

"I won't because that isn't my right, but I think you need to."

"I can't."

Simon just sighed and picked himself up off the floor, "I'm gonna wake up Mom and we're getting you to the hospital."

"Don't-"

"You can either come willingly or I can get my uncle to carry you there but you're going to the hospital either way. I'll be right back, don't do anything stupid like running away."

As soon as he left I started to heat up, every breath was like an engine roaring, too loud, too loud. I wanted the cool air, the snow, I wanted to freeze myself until I couldn't think.

I wanted Kurt, but I couldn't have him. Not now, maybe not ever. 

A woman with the same mousy hair as Simon's came bustling through the door. She seemed expertly calm for two in the morning, I guess it comes with having eight kids. Even though she seemed motherly, I shied away from her as she came up next to me. Simon stood in the doorway wringing his hands.

"Oh honey, you'll be alright, let's just get you to the car ok? One step at a time, just make it to the car." She put her arm lightly around my waist, trying not to move my shoulder at all.

I didn't want to go, but I didn't have the energy to fight. I let myself be practically carried to the car. Simon's mother put me in the backseat and whispered hushed nothings the whole drive to the hospital. I didn't even know what town I was in, but it had to be quite small because their city hospital was tiny. 

Once I managed to pull my feet inside, it all became a blur. The lights made my head throb and Simon's mom kept asking me questions for the medical forms. After what seemed like a never ending period of vertigo, they took me back to get the glass out of my shoulder, brace my arm, and find all the marks of the atrocities that had been committed on my body. 

As other kids were dreaming about the gifts they would receive in a couple of hours, I was wheeled through stark hallways in a blinding haze of pain.

•••

"Oh, you're awake. Hello, "The brown eyed lady looked down at a sheet in her hand, "Blaine. Hello Blaine. How are you doing. My name is Rosie."

What?

"Do you know where you are Blaine?"

No.  
Oh.   
Yes, yes I do.

"The-uh-the hospital?"

"Yes, there you go. I'm going to give you another dose of medicine alright?"

My head was a foggy wasteland but I managed an "ok..."

"Alright dear, would you like us to call your friends? They asked me to tell them when you woke up, but I thought I should ask you first."

"They can come."

"Would you like to see the doctor now or when they get here."

Never? Fine. "When they get here I guess." I didn't even know if I was making sense, my tongue felt heavy in my mouth.

"Why don't you get some more sleep." Rosie smiled softly at me before walking back out of the room.

Sounds great.

•••

"Ssh dear, let him sleep."

"I'm so freaking angry I can't even think."

"I know baby, I know. We have be there for him though."

"Yeah, it's just hard."

"All the memories huh?"

"You too?"

"Definitely."

"I feel so guilty."

"None of this was your fault Simon, do you hear me?"

"It feels like it is. If I could have just-"

"No. Stop it. I refuse to let you blame yourself. This is no one's fault but Blaine's parents. You are a wonderful boy Simon, understand?"

"Yeah..."

"Always remember that. None of this was you."

I shifted on the bed but still didn't open my eyes. I wasn't quite yet ready to face the world.

I don't think I will ever be ready.

"I think he's starting to wake up. Should we get a nurse?"

"Not yet, let's wait and see if he is actually awake."

I didn't open my eyes until a few minutes later. Blinking, I found Simon and his mom looking at me with concern, "Hey Blaine." Simon let out a tiny smile.

I was to groggy to say anything back yet, so I just blinked some more.

"Would you like me to get a nurse?" His mother spoke this time.

Another blink.

"Ok, I'm going to go get one."

A few minutes later, Simon's mom returned with the brown eyed nurse from earlier. Rosie was it?

"Hey Blaine, how are you feeling."

Like lead.

"I'm-" I cleared my voice in the hopes of making more sense, "I'm ok."

"Do you think you are ready to see the doctor now? Or would you like to wait until you are more awake?"

"Now is fine."

"Ok, I'll go get Dr. Tsung for you."

"We'll just..." Simon's mom gestured for the door.

"No! You can, if it's ok, you can stay."

"...ok."

She and Simon sat back down, "By the way Blaine, you're welcome to call me Mel."

"Um...ok." I think I had resigned past all formalities.

A pleasant looking asian man entered the room, "Hello Blaine. I'm Dr. Tsung, nice to meet you. Are your friends going to stay for this?"

"If it's ok."

"That's fine. So we are going to talk about your injuries ok?"

"A-alright."

"First off, you have received a minor concussion, but that should be fine with some rest. Your arm was broken in two places, we operated on that early this morning. You are going to have some pins in your arm that will stay there for the rest of your life, the surgery went well though and the arm should heal nicely in about eight weeks time."

Pins, pins, I already have so many pins. Someday that's all I'm going to be made of.

"Any questions so far?" I shook my head, "Good. Due to the copy of your medical history that we received, and the extensive bruising and scarring of your back, we are issuing you a simple back brace that must be worn for 24 hours a day for two weeks, and then at night for two more weeks after that. This is just a precaution based on the seriousness of your past injuries. Better safe than sorry." Both Simon and Ms. Mel were looking baffled right now. They apparently hadn't been informed of my past medical history, of that I was grateful. That would be overwhelming right now.

Dr. Tsung went on to explain all the various medications I would be taking, and left them in the care of Simon and Ms. Mel, "Now Blaine, while we cannot require that you do so, it is in my, and many others, opinion that you should have extensive therapy. Not physical therapy, though you will need some of that too, but therapy to help your mental health. Here is a list of doctors that we recommend. I think it really is a necessary step that needs to be taken." I didn't really know what to say to that.

"Tomorrow you will be meeting with the police and a social worker, so try and get some sleep, you should be able to be released tomorrow afternoon. Take it easy and everything should heal nicely. I'll see you again before they release you."

He left the room and we all sat in silence, not really knowing what to say.

Then I looked over at Simon and finally comprehended what everyone had been surreptitiously avoiding all day. Simon was sitting there in black dress pants and a bright red sweater vest that seemed very Christmas-y.

Because it was Christmas.

Oh god.

Crap.

"I'm sorry for wasting your Christmas."

"Oh honey, no. You're much more important right now."

"Still-"

"Seriously Blaine, you are currently saving me from having to look after nineteen children." I let out a shallow chuckle.

Ms. Mel glanced between Simon and me before standing up, "I should give you two a minute."

"Sure."

"Ok."

"This is hard for you isn't it?" I looked over at Simon who was looking at his hands, "From what you said last night, this has to be hard. I'm sorry."

"It is. It is hard, but in no way is it your fault."

"I won't blame myself if you don't blame yourself. It wasn't your job to have to read all the little hints and warnings."

"Guess not, but still..."

"No, no 'but still'. Please."

"...ok."

"Can I...can I ask you what happened. With your dad I mean? You don't have to though, not if you're not comfortable. Sorry-"

"No, no, no it's ok. I'm ok talking about it now." He sucked in a deep breath and then started talking, his hands tapping a slow rhythm on his kneecaps, "For as long as I can remember, he was an angry drunk. He would be gone for weeks at a time doing who knows what, and then he would come home and beat us. It was always just his hands, fists, legs, and sometimes his belt, "I flinched at that," Yeah, the doctor told us about all the scars on your back, I'm so sorry," he looked at me again before continuing, "It was just after my youngest sibling had been born when one day he came home with a knife. I wasn't even home, I was at the store down the street from my old house when my sister, who was then eleven, came screaming in that daddy had a knife and to please, please help. The store manager must have overheard us because, by the time I ran back home, the police already had my dad in handcuffs. He hadn't actually hurt anyone beyond a few shallow cuts, but still. So that was four years ago, he'll be in jail for a long time."

I sat there, muted, before I could form any coherent words, "How did you deal with it."

"For about a year I was so angry, at my father, my mother for staying with my dad, at everyone. Then I went to therapy though, it helped, a lot. I refused to talk to the lady for about two months, once I did though, it helped more than anything has. It sounds really cheesy, I know, but it's true. She got me my scholarship to Dalton, I actually still saw her up until July."

"Why did you stop?"

"I didn't feel like I really needed her anymore. I had stopped blaming everyone, stopped being distant. I was doing better than fine."

"I should take therapy shouldn't I."

"I think you should, yeah."

"I think I should have been taking therapy for a long time now."

"You can't change the past Blaine."

"...I know..."

"I'm still going to keep my promise by the way. I won't tell any of your other friends. I think you should, but I won't."

"I just...can't."

He didn't say anything, so I continued, "Does anyone at Dalton know about you?"

"Yeah, I told a lot of my friends last year. I don't really know why I haven't told you yet. I'm closer to you than I am to any of the soccer or science guys."

"Sometimes it's harder to tell things to the people you're closest to."

"Yeah..,Merry Christmas by the way, even though this is probably the worst Christmas ever for you. "

"It isn't THAT much worse than all the past Christmases."

"I'll sneak you in a sweet roll tomorrow morning, or some dinner rolls, whatever we have."

"Hah, ok."

A light knock on the door revealed Rosie the nurse, "Hey boys, I'm sorry to tell you that the visiting hours for non-family are over. You can come again at eight in the morning though ok?"

"Alright, thanks," Simon stood up, "I guess that's it. I don't really want to leave you alone but I don't think I get a choice."

"It's ok, I promise."

"See ya tomorrow Blaine."

Ms. Mel stuck her head in, "Bye sweetie, we'll be back in the morning."

And so I was alone again. They had already started to wean off the pain medications and everything hurt, mainly my arm, but everything seemed just a little bit blurred around the details.

I had already started to slip back into sleep when I heard voices in the hallway and a new nurse came in to see me, "Hello Blaine, there is a lady here to see you, here name is Jillian Harth? She said you would know her as Jillian Anderson? We know she is family so we didn't want to let her see you until you said she was safe."

Aunt Jillian?

Oh my god.

"Yes, yes she is definitely safe. Yes."

"Ok, we'll let her come see you."

Oh my god.

How did she find me?

I can't believe it.

A very tearful, bustling Aunt Jillian slid into the room, auburn curls flying wildly, "Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, oh my god, I can't believe it. I can't believe it!"

"Hey Aunt Jillian."

"Oh sweetie..." She was already beside me, her hands brushing my un-gelled hair out of my eyes, "I'm so sorry, so sorry."

"It's ok."

"No, no, shh, it's not, it's not. No one deserves what happened to you, you hear?"

"I know, no one deserves it, but it happened. How did you find me?"

"Ollie came home saying how you'd been in a fight with Peter at the table, then later came running in bleeding and left. So I of course called the police and after an extensive background check, was led here. How did you get here?"

All for me.

"My friend Simon and his mother brought me here late last night."

"I promise to be right back, but I'm going to get a doctor to explain all the injuries ok?"

"Ok."

True to her word, she was back in about fifteen minutes, this time much more tearful though, "I'm so sorry this happened Blaine. I'm going to talk to the social worker tomorrow with you if that's ok."

"To..so...wait...so I could live with you?"

"If you want. I'd love to have you."

"Really?"

"Yes. I would love for you to live with Ollie and I, only if you want to though."

It was like the heavens were raining down angels, "Yes, yes please. Yes, yes, yes."

"Ok sweetie, we'll see what we can do. Why don't you get some sleep ok? Tomorrows going to be hard."

"Thank you."

With her fingers carding softly through my hair, my eyes closed, but not before I could hear her say, "I love you little B, so much."

•••

I awoke with a motherly hand still resting on my forehead. I was able to bask in the tenderness of the feeling for about a minute before Aunt Jillian stirred and nurse came sprinting in with breakfast trays, trying to boost up my energy for the horrific day that was to come. I didn't really care to intake their hospital food though, so I waited for Simon. True as ever, he arrived with two sticky buns hidden in Tupperware under his jacket. With the nurses eyes turned, we scarfed down the cinnamon goodness, a sweet start to a deliriously sour day.

Everything seemed as if it were a panic attack, but I didn't feel overwhelmed. Just cold and numb, which was definitely okay. The world was spinning just a second too fast, the lights a switch too bright, but these people were on an organized mission, no time to stop and shade my world.

There were police officers, social workers, people I didn't know what they did at all. I was bombarded with questions like the Germans bombarded the British during the blitz. The social workers weren't too bad, it was decided pretty quickly that I would be living with Jillian (I couldn't even stop to breathe when they told me that before I was pulling my aunt into a hug) but that I would be staying at Simon's and then Dalton until the paperwork was finished around late February. 

It was the police statements that were hard.

Hard didn't even cover it.

Catastrophically abominable was more like it.

I asked everyone I knew to leave, I needed to make these statements alone for as much of their sanity as my own. They had to give me medicines to calm down in about the first five minutes though. It seemed as if the brutal hearing lasted forever, questions, questions, questions, statements. They told me that my parents would be locked away, my dad for a very long time, but that I wouldn't have to attend the trial if I didn't want to, being a minor and all. Of course, I didn't want to, so then off to more statements. Pictures were taken for evidence, it was terrible to watch these tough faces crumble into expressionless despair as they faced the linear scars across my back that encased the other wounds.

It wasn't until eleven at night when I was finally released, so exhausted and dazed that I had to strain to understand the nurse's last warnings. Aunt Jillian and I hugged way longer than was usually socially necessary, but I'm quite sure that neither of us cared. Then Ms. Mel and Simon helped me to their waiting car, and we were off.

Off to where normal people led normal lives and hadn't spent their Christmas lying on deafeningly sterilized bed.

•••

"What happened to your arm?"

It was probably around noon when I opened my eyes, laying stiffly on Simon's bed (him taking an uncomfortable looking cot on the floor), locked into my brace. As the midday light flooded in, what seemed like a thousand pairs of child eyes looked curiously at me.

"Who are you?"

"You look tired."

"Aunt Mel said not to bother you. Why can't we bother you? What's wrong?"

"Do you know Santa?"

"No Will, he doesn't know Santa, remember what Aunt Mel said about him being Simon's friend?"

"How come Simon gets to bring a friend? Mommy told me that I couldn't invite Natalie!"

Oh god help me.

So many children...

Oh thank god, Simon is coming to save me.

"Hey! Remember what Mom said guys? Leave Blaine alone ok?" Simon pushed all the kids out of the room, a young teen with darker hair than Simon followed him into the room.

"I'm Chloe, second oldest ragamuffin."

"I think we're overwhelming him.."

"Um-no-it's fine. Two is fine. Nineteen? Not so much."

"Yeah sorry, some girl was supposed to be watching them..." He sent a steaming look towards Chloe.

She just shrugged it off, "Whatever. Anyways, so you're cute. You're name's Blaine right."

Getting hit on by Simon's sister?

Awkward.

"Um...yeah...I'm Blaine."

"You're really hot, I like your curls."

"I'm also really gay."

"Pity, we could've been a cute couple."

"OK! Chloe! Out! Now!"

"What? Is flirting now a crime?"

"To my best friend that you just met? Yeah. Now out."

"Fiiine..."

"Sorry about her, she's going through that obsessive girl faze where they only care about getting a boyfriend."

"It's ok, I don't really mind."

"That's good because she's probably going to keep hitting on you until you go back to Dalton. But yeah, I brought you some nice, warm, leftover dinner rolls. I figured you'd be hungry since it's like twelve thirty."

"Ooh, bread."

"Yeah, they're pretty good, my grandma made them."

"How many people are in this house right now?"

"I don't even know...I don't think I want to know..."

"That many huh?"

"You have no idea."

"I'm about to."

"True. How are you doing by the way?"

"I'm-I'm ok. The medicine is helping a lot. Mostly now I'm just tired, the only thing that really hurts is my arm. My back is sore but nothing unbearable though, the brace on the other hand is freaking terrible."

"Would a dinner roll help?"

"Yeah, yeah I think it would."

"Look at you, eating. That Westly would be so proud."

"I should probably text him and tell him I broke my arm..,"

"Yeah, you should. While you do that and eat, I'm gonna go put on some G rated stuff for the abundant children."

Me: um...so...yeah. I broke my arm....

Wes: you WHAT?!

Wes: right before sectionals?

Wes: oh god...

Wes: how are you though?

Me: sorry, I'm ok

Wes: how'd it happen?

Me: black ice

Wes: black ice is the worst..

Me: yeah, so I can't really move it much...at all

Wes: ok, we'll just take out some of the arm movement, it's not like you really have much choreography anyways with singing lead.

Me: it'll be fine. It's not like the judges can take off points for a broken arm right?

Wes: just tell me that you didn't get your cast in an obnoxious color like neon pink

Me: I did not get my cast in an obnoxious color like neon pink...though I was tempted.

Wes: what color is it?

Me: dark navy

Wes: praise the lord!

Me: you're welcome

Wes: i have to go change choreography, don't break anymore limbs. I'll text you later.

Me: see ya

Simon hopped back into the room, "Twenty seven!"

"Huh?"

"That's how many people are in this house!"

"How many rooms are there?"

"Not enough, the only reason we get this room relative-free is because I am an amazing person and spend all of my time watching insane products of nature. You ready to go help look after children?"

Nope.

"Um..."

"Too bad! Come on!"

•••

I spent the next five days being doted on by various family members of Simon's, eating way too many of his grandmother's dinner rolls, and watching children's cartoons with eighteen children and one young teenage girl who couldn't wrap her little head around the fact that "No I will not date you I AM GAY." But oh well, even after everything that fell apart into pencil shaving pieces, it was a nice week.

We were all sitting around the television, paper plates heaped with food, watching some cartoon about a purple cat (well the kids were watching the purple cat, Simon and I were discussing what kind of cake was better, chocolate or strawberry) when Chloe decided to, once again, ask me out.

"Oh come ON, strawberry is sooo much better! It's pink Blaine! Come on!"

"True, but-"

"You like pink? I looove pink!" Chloe went scrambling over all the children to sit up right next to me.

Freak.

"Chloe, leave Blaine be, Blaine likes boys not girls."

"I wish you liked me."

"I do like you, just not as a date."

"But gay guys are so caring and stuff! And they can dress nicely!"

"Hey I can dress nicely, I'm straight!"

"You don't count, you're my brother."

"Oh, don't count? You better watch yourself missy."

"Aaanyways," Chloe turned back to me, "We should go out to dinner sometime."

"No thank you, sorry. I really am not into dating girls."

"I want a daaate!" She stomped off to go complain to some poor aunt or uncle about her lack of love life.

"Girls..." Simon mumbled.

"I was pretty sire you liked girls quite a bit when you were freaking out about Luci."

"Luci is a goddess, not a girl."

"Whatever man."

Simon's grandma waltzed through then, handing out steaming chocolate cookies to all the kids, "Here you go Joseph, and Ruthie...oh our skinny guest needs an extra to fatten him up. You're too skinny. You should eat more."

"I'll take another cookie." I gave her my pretty doe eyes.

"Three cookies it is then, be careful now they're hot."

"Can I have three?"

"Now Simon, you can't be eating up all of the cookies, save some for the children."

"Wha-?" He looked at me in shock, "No fair! How do you do it! Why can the gay guys always charm the ladies!"

"Perks of being lovely."

"Oh shut up and share some on your cookies."

So I sat on a pillow in my friend's living room, sharing gooey cookies with a guy who had probably saved my life, and watching a purple cat entertain a bunch of kids.

Life hadn't been great, it wouldn't always be great in the future.

But right then, life was livable.

And that's what counts.


	13. Chapter 13

What a silly thing it is to think that I could magically be ok.

Of course, it was wonderful to hear Jillian's voice every evening. Her soft ebb and flow telling me how she loved me.

Of course it was wonderful to be back at Dalton, back to singing, dancing, pianos, friends.

It wasn't nice to lie.

To have Jeff and Nick fawning over my every move.

To have Trent practically wailing at my ailment.

To spend my off hours in Kurt's room, not doing much other than listen to the quiet lilt of Pavarotti.

To have everyone care and show it all back in there faces be reassuring them over and over that it wasn't anything other than black ice, black ice, black ice.

Rehearsals were freeing but tedious. Wes kept a clinical eye over all the proceedings, making us stop and practice every twelve part harmony that missed one note, every counter-melody that seemed a little too strong. Redoing my choreography wasn't to bad for Hey Soul Sister, I just end up walking around and looking about as bubbly as any injured person can, but on Titanium I had to be completely taken out. It wasn't detrimental to my conscience or anything, I wouldn't want to have to change the choreography for everyone just because I can barely dance, but it did but a bit of a damper on rehearsals. 

It was on the first day of our eight hour rehearsals (so lovingly scheduled by Wes) that Kurt looked like he was about to explode with news. I didn't get to talk truly talk to him until the evening though.

As soon as rehearsal let out he glued himself onto my good arm and pulled me carefully up the half-spiral stairs, on which we had met seemingly lifetimes ago.

"Blaine Devon I have so much to tell you that could not possibly fit in a text!"

"Ok?"

"Come on! We can go to my room, I have to feed that bird anyways."

When we reached his room he flew onto his bed, quickly arranging himself like a little Indian prince, and pouring some birdseed in the Warbler's cage, "Ok, so you know how I went over to Brittany's house to meet with the girls?"

Oh.

Interesting...

"Yeah."

"Oh my god! They were so different. I mean it was a little uncomfortable at times, but it was nice to have a break from my boy-filled life. Everyone needs a little pink now and then."

"I'm not sure every guy would agree with that, but ok."

"Well I mean Brittany had no idea what was going on except that her dolphin was in her room, and she kept trying to introduce me to her cat. Mercedes was sweet and pretty remorseful at how she treated me, she spent a lot of the time apologizing, and Tina got a whole new hairdo which looked so good on her, she got rid of all the weird highlights finally. Mercedes also told me about her new wardrobe which does NOT just consist of awkward zebra print! Of course Santana spent the whole time making lewd comments about our relationship..."

He trailed off there blushing. I didn't really understand anything that just came out of Kurt's mouth, but I nodded and gave an encouraging smile.

"I think we could really work things out. I mean, this one get together didn't suddenly make us best friends or anything, but with time, I think it could be good again."

I didn't really like how quickly Kurt was setting his heart out back in the savannah where it could so easily be trampled on by elephants, but I wasn't about to be some kind of jealous, controlling jerk. 

"I think it's good that all of you are trying."

"Yeah. Oh my god Blaine, you should have seen Brittany's shrine to her cat. She claims that her religion is Cataism. Seriously, that girl has problems, it's like she is in a permanent state of drug induced highness."

"Isn't most highness drug induced?"

"Shut up. But yeah, she can freak me out sometimes."

"Better to worship cats than something crazy like tarantulas."

"Oh god, a shrine of tarantulas, stop. No. Just...no."

"Someone doesn't like their arachnid friends."

"Arachnids are NOT my friends."

"Shh, Kurt, the ones in the ceiling can hear you."

"Oh god... Now I am acutely aware that they are living over my head, watching me sleep."

"Fun image isn't it?"

"Go away Blaine Devon."

"I'd rather not."

"Fine then, since Pavarotti got his dinner would you care to join me for ours?"

"I'd be delighted." We left the room, "So, question."

"Hmm?"

"Is Santana out and proud at school with her cataistic girlfriend yet?"

"I know that Santana is out but I don't know if people have noticed yet, they are already quite...open with each other. Honestly I don't even know if Brittany would notice, I don't think she understands 'being out'. She asked one time if the reason I dressed so pretty is because I spent a lot of time 'In the Closet'."

"Oh my god."

•••

Simon: you doing alright? How is it being back?

Me: I guess it's good, Dalton is always good, but it's hard

Simon: have you told anyone yet?

Me: no

Simon: Blaine Devon Anderson

Me: oh god, Kurt's rubbing off on you

Simon: don't avoid the question

Me: I can't

Simon: they once said that meningitis patients who lost their hearing could never listen to music and then they invented cochlear implants. Don't say can't.

Me: Fine, but I haven't yet because I don't know what to do. I feel like I'm stuck in a maze

Simon: okay, I'm calling you. Get where you can talk on the phone.

About five seconds later my phone rang, "Wow Simon, you gave me so much time..."

"You in a good place?"

"I'm in my room so..."

"Okay then, I'm getting right to the point. Tell someone before it escalates and you're trapped in a funnel of lies."

"Are you speaking from experience...?" 

"Somehow one of the soccer guys, he's already graduated, this was sophomore year, found out. I guess he overheard a phone call to my mom, but soon all the soccer guys were freaking out and asking why I had kept it a secret and it was like they were angry at me for not spilling my soul or something. I can see where they were coming from though, to them I hadn't just kept my life a secret, I had told a horrible lie. Blaine, that wasn't fun ok? Tell them, they won't be mad at you if you just tell the truth. They will probably be mad at your dad though."

"I don't want to worry everyone..."

"They're your friends. They will worry and I believe that they have every right too."

"I just don't know..."

"When do you start counseling?"

"I start on Tuesday."

"Good, it'll help."

"I honestly feel like I might break apart before then."

"It'll be ok. And I do mean that. You have plenty of people who will gladly help hold you together."

•••

School started back with a nuclear bang of rehearsals, homework, exams such that, by the time Tuesday rolled around, I had practically forgotten that my Aunt would be picking me up. About ten minutes before she arrived I ran into Carver in the dining hall.

"Hey Carver what's up?"

"Dude, you're not at rehearsal? That asian kid must have lost his mind."

"Yes, we did have to pry ourselves from Wes' clutches so that we could eat."

"He's to serious. He carries that bang-y thing with him everywhere."

"His gavel?"

"I guess? I was talking in class one time and he probably would have hit me over the head with it if my teacher hadn't walked in."

"Don't mess with that kid's academics."

"So there is a basketball game on tonight. I know it isn't football but it's still cool, want to come watch it?"

"Sure!" I had gone about twenty paces when it came back to me, "Oh! Oh wait! I already have plans?"

"Oh...ok... Wait. Are those plans with my roommate?"

"No they aren't. I'm going somewhere with my aunt."

"Oh, well maybe some other time we can watch a game?"

"Definitely."

"Have fun with your aunt."

I'm not quite sure what this evening will hold.

I walked as quickly as my brace would allow out to the front where my Jillian's car was already waiting. 

"I'm so sorry, I forgot all about this..."

"It's fine, how was your day?" She asked as I clambered up into the front seat.

"Fine, crazy, but fine. I saw Ollie strapped into her carseat through the rearview mirror, "Hey O, what's up?"

"You're gonna be my big brother!"

"Um, yeah, I guess I am. Is that ok?"

"It's the BEST! You're gonna teach me how to ride a bike! And mommy said you can sing and play cool music things and so you're gonna teach me that too! Maybe you can sing with me and the princesses and then you can dress up as my prince and I can be Cinderella and we can live happily ever after! And-"

"Don't worry," Jillian leaned over to whisper in my ear, "I'm dropping her off at a friends house."

"And you're gonna make me a bunch of cookies all the time and go swimming with me and take me to the movies when mommy won't and-"

Neither Aunt Jillian nor I said much on the way, both of us just smiling and nodding at all the "wonderful, fantastic, amazing things Blaine is going to do as my new super awesome big brother." It was actually quite nice.

As soon as Ollie jumped out of the car at her friends with a wave, a sparkly purple backpack (my little cousin has style), and a "Bye mom! My Blaine!" the car became quite a bit more serious. 

"How are you really?"

I'm starting to hate that question.

"I'm living."

I think she got the point because then she went into mom mode and just started asking me about every aspect of my classes, day, life.

To most kids this would be wildly obnoxious, but to me it was a foreign luxury.

The therapist or consoler or whoever's office was in an old generic strip mall that seemed about as inviting as escargot, but I was trying very hard not to judge the book by it's cover, so I let Aunt Jillian check me in and then amused myself with the waiting room's last-season fashion magazines.

"They are pretty out of style huh?"

What? 

A skinny yellow-blonde guy who was probably only about twenty five was smiling down at me.

"Um, yeah..."

"Are you Blaine?"

"Yes?"

"Fantastic, I'm Hayden."

"Nice to meet you."

"Why don't we go back to my office."

Oh.

So he's my counselor.

Interesting.

"Yes, sure."

His office turned out to be a little closet like space painted with fairy-dust-green walls and two plush yellow chairs separated by a desk.

"So to start out, I've been briefed of your case, though any details will need to come from you. Also, your aunt went through great pains to find me so I would probably thank her if I were you. I work with a lot of cases in the lgbt community, I hope you don't mind that your aunt mentioned your sexuality-"

"No, that's fine."

"Good, you seem pretty comfortable with yourself, that's one step ahead of the game. But as I said, I work a lot with people who aren't cisgender as they generally feel more comfortable talking about someone who gets it."

Oh...

"Yes," Hayden chuckled at my expression, "This is my husband, we got married in New York last August." He slipped a picture out of his wallet, it showed him proudly kissing a handsome asian man's cheek. I couldn't help but give a smile at that (albeit a shy and quasi-nervous smile).

"I...um...I didn't really expect there to be that big of a market for a lgbt counselor."

"Well they aren't all 'out of the closet' yet."

"Right, good point."

"So Blaine, we can finish with more introductions as we go along, is there anywhere you would like to start."

Anywhere, everywhere, nowhere.

What cam out was, "I feel quite lost."

•••

We didn't actually get that far into anything, I didn't feel quite ready to divulge my whole soul yet, but it felt wildly liberating to talk to someone who could truly help and look at me with more than a queasy pity in their eye.

I slipped quietly into Jillian's car, staring at my hands because I didn't really know what to say. Just as she started the car I breathed out a barely audible, "Thank you."

"Anytime." She patted my knee.

Who knew that something that small, that normal, could evoke such a tingling glory.

•••

Sectionals.

Oh god.

All twenty eight Warblers stood in the senior commons, adjusting ties, hastily polishing the last scuffs off shoes. Outside the double doors the whole school was waiting to send us off on the bus, any who wished to attend would ride on a later bus.

The air held a not-so-quiet undertone of static electricity. If you lingered long enough in one area you were bound to get shocked.

Thad had already asked me about fifteen times if his pants were ironed good enough and Nick was stalking the room muttering the lyrics to his solo continuously. I looked over at Kurt to see him biting his nails.

"Since when do you ever do anything to your perfect nails?"

"Shut up, I'm nervous."

"I think it's adorable."

"Well yeah you would because you are apparently superhuman and never EVER get nervous for a performance."

"Performing is fun!"

"Yeah, unless you fall on your face and die."

"You won't fall on your face and die."

"Oh really?"

"I'll catch you."

Oh those eyes. He was looking at me with wonderment engraved in polished cerulean. His hand had stilled in his teeth and before pausing to think about how flirty it would seem (and maybe I was sort of going for flirty) I grabbed his hand to stop his teeth from grinding down his perfect nails and held the soft fingers tightly in my own.

His eyes grew even wider.

"Ok, OK! Are we all ready?"

Wow Wes, way to ruin the moment.

"We are going to go out and be professional no matter what happens, but you better win. Deal?"

A chorus of "yeah...?"'s filled the room.

"Good because we are too great to lose. Let's go get 'em." He made an awkward fist pump gesture and then began to open the doors.

As soon as the other students saw us they bust into catcalls and cheers. We were all smiling and fist bumping everyone as they waved good luck signs and streamers. As I passed Wes I gave him a poke, "Nice pep talk, it was quite moving." Wes just gave a refined nod and herded me towards the waiting bus, not catching the dripping sarcasm.

I somehow made it through the crowd still holding Kurt's hand so we shared a seat near the back of the bus. A confetti covered Jeff and David sat down in front of us while Nick and Trent sat beside us. Unlike David, Thad was actually helping Wes with the "official headcount".

"God that would never have happened at McKinley, they would have been throwing slushies, not confetti."

"That's barbaric!"

"Not every place is this kind Trent."

"You two ready to bring the house down?!" David yelled at both Nick and I.

"Yeah!"

Nick looked a little nauseous, "maybe..."

"Oh come on Nick, you're amazing."

"I feel like I'll faint the moment I open my mouth."

"See? That's how I feel! And I'm not even singing a solo!"

"You should totally try out with some crazy Adele song for Regionals."

"I love how you are positive that we are going to Regionals, Jeff, we haven't even sung yet."

St. Trent piped up, "We're wonderful people, I'm sure we will do great."

"Well we can at least beat those old people."

"Old people competing in show choir is just weird..."

"What about New Directions?"

We all looked at Kurt.

"As much as it pains me to say it, they're good. And the judges love their feel good emotions and looks."

"Yes but we sing better right?"

"Well a cappella is a whole different world so..."

"Freak."

"We'll do fine, we have three awesome soloists and as much as he drives me absolutely insane, Wes has done an amazing job."

"Why don't we just sing and not worry?"

"That is so much easier said than done." Nick mumbled.

•••

We all clambered off the bus in a wreck of conflicting emotions. As much as I didn't want to, I finally let go of Kurt's hand. I didn't want today to be ruined by people who couldn't handle two boys who cared for each other. We were immediately rushed into a practice room by Wes where we spent another hour going over everything one last time, and then it was time to go to the green room.

We heard the announcers and judges all make terribly un-enthralling speeches that seemed to last longer than the three kingdoms of Egypt, and then they announced the Hipsters.

We watched from the wings as a bunch of adorable old people sang to the tunes of their youth. It was kind of sad because they had no chance of winning whatsoever, but at least show choir was putting some energy back into their lives.

They walked off stage, their shining blue uniforms disintegrating into the lightless wings, and the announcer came back on.

"From Dalton Academy in Westerville, The WARBLERS!"

This is everything we have put our lives into, and we have ten minutes to show it to the world.

We walked on stage, got into our spots, and Wes counted down until the backup harmonies began to bubble up behind me. And I sang.

I saw the Dalton kids cheering us on in the back. Carver and Simon were sitting beside each other (that's new) and a beaming Luci was attached to Simon's side.

I was floating, flying, soaring, singing.

This is who I am.

The song ended and I began to grin like a maniac as I took a bow and led the group offstage to view Marcello's solo.

A chorus of breathless whispers congratulated me as we all turned to watch our Edge of Glory performance. I swear that Marcello made every girl swoon.

Then everyone else was back on stage providing vocals for Nick's solo. I knew him well enough to know that the brunette was about to die of nerves, but if you didn't know him, he looked amazingly calm yet energized.

He was flawless, of course, but I kept finding my eyes drawn over to Kurt.

He was so beautiful when he sang.

He was so beautiful.

In ten minutes the past six months dissolved into one performance, slightly stunned, we all took our seats in the audience to view our competition.

The New Directions' first performance was that Rachel girl singing with melodramatic flare that wasn't that incredible when compared to what the choir could probably do as a whole. The second number was pretty cute, two blond kids were singing a sweet duet.

Their last number, though, was stupendous.

Santana can sing.

She was belting out the notes to Valerie with such FEELING it was unbelievable, and Brittany and the cute asian were breathtaking.

This was good music.

•••

So we tied.

Not bad.

We were all mingling in the house now, trying to find any friends or family members. I obviously wasn't expecting anyone to come so I said hello to my friends from Dalton and then went of to find Kurt and his family.

"Blaine!"

"Hey Kurt! You didn't fall and die!"

"I know!"

"You did amazing!"

"Your solo was incredible."

"Hey kid, you were great up their."

"Hello Mr. Hummel, thank you."

"I'm sorry to hear about that black ice, honey."

"It's alright ma'am."

"BLAINE!"

Huh?

"Ollie?"

"Hey Blaine," Aunt Jillian was standing behind me, an excited Ollie attached to her arm.

I could tell my mouth was hanging open, "You came..."

"Of course," she smiled, "Who are you're friends?"

"Oh, um, this is Mr. Hummel and Ms. Hudson, "I had finally figured out her name," and this is Kurt. This is my Aunt Jillian and my cousin Ollie."

"Hey, sorry to interrupt but we have to go collect our bags and regroup for a moment." Wes tapped Kurt and I on the shoulder.

"See you outside the lobby in twenty minutes?"

"Sure dad."

Mr. Hummel turned to us, "Would you three care to join us for dinner?"

"No, we couldn't-"

Jillian interrupted, "That would be great. I would love to meet at least one of Kurt's friends."

Kurt and I headed backstage, on the way sneaking past a steaming Rachel who was screaming pitiful obscenities at any Warbler she saw. We made it almost to the green room when a group of girls came up to Kurt, hugging him tightly. I figured these were the New Directions girls, so I let hime be.

Santana gave Kurt a quick smile before coming towards me, "Nice voice Charming."

"You were great!"

"A compliment? Interesting."

"So how are you and Brittany?"

"If you're being nosey, yes we are dating and stuff. Are you and Kurt married yet?"

"No."

"You act like it."

"How about we end this conversation now."

"You're already a sickly sweet old couple, kiss the boy already."

"Yeah, ok, bye."

"See you around Prince Charming."

Kurt gave the girls one last shy hug and smile each before grabbing my hand (blush) and getting our bags, "See? Now that I'm holding your good hand I get to be the gentleman and carry your stuff."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Your cousin is cute."

"She is."

"You never talk about her or your aunt..."

I didn't have an excuse so I just shrugged. He got the point and dropped it.

"Your solo really was wonderful."

"You have been hearing it in practice for months."

"It's good every time."

•••

We ended up going to Breadstix for dinner. Finn took an immediate liking to Ollie, they both worked on the kids menu coloring pages the whole time.

It was too cute.

The adults were all talking amongst themselves about adult things and how good we all performed so that left Kurt and I to ourselves.

"You ready for Rent tomorrow?"

"I am preparing myself for the heartbreak."

"We should get ice cream."

"Blaine Devon."

"We SHOULD!"

"God I can't resist your puppy eyes."

"Yes! You can get something fancy and I can get orange sherbet."

"Why orange? Orange is a hideous color!"

"Just for you I am wearing orange tomorrow."

"No!"

Dinner of knock-off Italian was pretty good but we had to leave to get Ollie home for bedtime. It was the first night in my new house, my feelings were a jumbled mess of too many emotions.

Kurt walked me out to the car and turned towards me as Jillian fought to get Ollie all buckled up.

"So I'll see you around ten?"

"Yup! I'll be there...wearing orange!"

"You're wonderful Blaine Devon."

"Thank you." Before I knew what I was doing I kissed him on the tip of his cold nose.

His breath stuttered, his eyes glinted with an exotic glow, "Goodnight," I breathed, my breaths tickling his cheekbone.

He gulped and nodded, squeezing my hand before walking away. I didn't miss the way his hand ghosted over his nose, feeling the spot where my lips had just been.

"Mommy?"

"Yes baby?"

"Blaine just kissed that other boy's nose."

"I know, it was adorable wasn't it."


	14. Chapter 14

My sweater vest was delightfully soft against me skin, the two weeks had been up, I was free from my brace. Aunt Jillian drove through Lima, Ollie chattered like a bird in her carseat, until the we spotted Kurt's house. A lighthouse in the snowy fog. 

"Alright, you have everything?"

"Yes ma'am."

"And Kurt is driving the both of you back to Dalton in time for dinner."

"Yes ma'am."

"Alright then, have fun, be careful, I love you."

I froze at that, my mouth twitching like a tongue-tied fish. It was like hot chocolate had been poured down my veins.

"I-I love you too." It was a foreign thing to say.

"Bye Blainey!" Ollie broke the air.

"Bye O, have fun at the museum."

"Go on in before he thinks you've forgotten about him." Jillian gave me a slight push out of the car.

Finn answered the door as my aunt and cousin drove off, "Hey dude! Kurt and you are going to see that play thing where everyone dies right?"

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Cool, he's still getting ready."

"Ok."

"You want some juice? I haven't quite finished the whole carton yet."

"Sure."

"Awesome."

Finn and I sat at the kitchen table drinking juice and talking sports until Kurt glided down the stairs like a seraph. 

"Blaine!"

"You're wearing the bowtie." Kurt's neck was surrounded by the little ferris wheel tie.

"Of course," he said it like it was nothing, "Sorry I was running late."

"It's all good, Finn and I were just drinking." He raised an eyebrow, "Juice. We were drinking juice. Not like drinking, drinking...."

"You ready to go?"

"Of course."

He placed his hand on the middle of my back and led me out to his car.

•••

Rent was fantastic, depressing, but fantastic. I'll be singing along to the soundtrack for the next four months. Neither Kurt or I could stop grinning like fools as we walked down the street to an ice cream parlor.

"I think the girl who played Maureen was the best."

"But when he sang One Song Glory..."

"That song is so powerful."

"And Seasons of Love-"

"Well of course that was amazing."

"It always is."

"The play is so sad, but I can't help but love it."

"It makes a statement."

A bell clinked as we entered the powder blue shop with it's 1950's style checkered floor.

"I hope they have orange sherbet."

"You are ridiculous."

"I know. I'm cool that way."

"Shut up," he nudged me sideways, sending me a humored smirk.

"But you're smiling."

"Whatever, go order, I'm paying."

"But-"

"As I remember correctly, I asked you to this play AND you payed for coffee last."

"Fine, fine...Can I order for you?"

"Really?"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes."

No hesitation.

"Ok then, go sit down."

"I'm still paying you know."

"Yeah I know."

I walked up to the counter to peruse the choices. They didn't have orange sherbet. That's no fun. They did have strawberry sherbet though, that is at least something. Now for Kurt.

Lemon cream or peanut butter swirl. Fudge with almonds or cherry cheesecake. No. Wait. 

Butter Toffee Latte.

I didn't even know that was a thing. But it was now Kurt's thing.

I ordered and let Kurt pay (begrudgingly) and had us sit down before I handed him his cone. I stared at him as he took his first bite, watching his glassy eyes to see his reactions.

"Oh my god..."

"So it's good?"

"Are you insane?"

"No?"

"It's delicious!"

I could now eat my strawberry in peace.

A few more minutes passed of critiquing the play before Kurt fell silent and bit his lip.

"Blaine?"

"Yeah?"

He fiddled with his napkin for a moment before breathing in and speaking carefully, "Is...Is this...a date?"

Oh.

"I-um-do you want it to be?"

He wasn't looking at me, "Kurt," I reached out and touched his chin, "Kurt, do you want it to be?"

"Yes." It was so quiet, barely a breath.

"Good." He looked up at that, "Because I want it to be too."

I hooked my bare foot (yes I did take my shoes off in an ice cream parlor Kurt) around his ankle under the table and watched his pleased blush. 

I don't think my heart will be able to beat normally ever again.

•••

After a couple days of therapy, Hayden jumped right into helping fix the panic attacks, freezing, nightmares, and starving. He worked with me on breathing, calming down, finding the real problem behind the attack and using rational thought. Of course, I couldn't actually see and improvement yet, but it had only been a week. I had also started to divulge in some of my past with him. Just snippets here and there, but still.

I talked a lot about Kurt. About his hair, eyes, lips.... I talked about how we were sort of dating, at least, how we had had one official date. About how someday I was going to find him the greatest coffee in all of Westerville. About how his voice was better than anything that could ever be explained. Ineffability in its finest.

And Hayden listened.

To every word.

•••

It was Thursday when it all broke down, when the sun collapsed and all that was true turned to fire and dust. 

I walked into the Senior commons where the Warblers were having coffee and tea to find a couple of Freshman sitting in the corner reading a newspaper, Wes prancing around with David and Thad, wielding his gavel like a knight's sword, and Kurt looking as beautiful as ever.

Kurt, who I am pretty much DATING.

I was still standing in the doorway when Maurice exclaimed, "Oh my god! This guy is such a hypocrite!"

"What?" A sophomore hopped over towards him.

"This guy! He's some big shot in the court system who has been charged with like a trillion counts of abuse! Seriously, he's the one who is supposed to be stopping that kind of stuff!"

I was frozen.

I saw Wes turn slowly towards me (or has time just slowed down)

I think the world just stopped turning.

As soon as my name left the Head Warblers mouth I bolted. I could hear Jeff, Trent, and Wes running after me, calling my name. With my head start I made it out of the school.

I ran down the drive.

Up the street.

Everything stung, I couldn't see, breathe.

I had to walk but they had stopped running after me.

I made into town, frozen, but that was all the better. 

They knew.

Oh god.

HE knew.

Kurt.

I fell down onto a bench, heels of my hands pressed to my face.

Time passed.

Someone was talking to me.

"Are you lost again my dear? You should really get a map."

Oh it's the nice lady.

I can't even remember her name.

"I-" I trailed off.

"Did that boy of yours like his present?"

"Yes, so much..." 

Elise, Ellen, Elaine?

"Did you ever visit the Cupa Mistic?"

"The what?"

"The best coffee in the world."

"Oh that."

"You look like you need it. I bet you could get a taxi there."

"Maybe..."

"I'll call you one."

Um...wow...ok...

Not expected. 

The taxi came and took me away from the square. From the nice old lady who wears too much floral.

I can't think straight, so I just let the driver do his job.

•••

The dark green storefront displayed the gold engraving "Cupa Mistic" on the top and on all of the steamed windows. A bell chimes quietly as I hobbled into the empty shop.

It was like a gypsy caravan had deposited all of their worldly goods in this one little space. Everything is browns, golds, reds, purples. Mismatched chairs that were too plump, warm blankets, pillows with tassels, an assortment of beautiful china. I was so lost in the Bohemian dream that I didn't notice the tiny, gray-haired lady that slid up to me."

"Hello!" Her accent was gorgeous, "Welcome to my shop! I'm Raphaella and we are technically closed but you look like you need the best cup of coffee."

I tried to object, I didn't want her to have to stay late just for me, but she pushed me down into a chair that was right up against the window.

"I'll be back with coffee. Get comfortable."

So I took of my dress shoes and watched the pedestrians roam the streets. Raphaella came back holding a cup of blue china with coffee that smelled like cinnamon and heaven swirled with hazelnut.

"Drink some coffee."

It. Was. Ineffable.

No one has tasted coffee unless it has been made by Raphaella.

"Oh my god..."

"Good?"

"Amazing."

"So tell me why you are so sad. No wait. Tell me your name first."

"Blaine Anderson, ma'am."

"Now tell me why you look so sad."

"I-umI'm not really-I don't exactly know you..."

"That is the whole point. I don't know the people, places, events, anything. I don't know you or your story."

"How will that help?"

"I am just some random lady who will listen without any judgement."

"I'm not really comfortable talking about it right now..."

"Maybe after some more coffee? I'll tell you some about the coffee shop. Or maybe where I'm from? How about I tell you about Romania."

•••

The street lamps had flickered on just as I finished my tale. I was shaking violently and my lip had to be bleeding from the way I gnawed on it through every dark story. 

"Is that the first time you've shared that."

"The only time I've shared all of it."

"Do you want to know what I think?"

"I don't know..."

"I think that you are so unbelievably brave."

"No, I'm really not."

"So brave, you just can't see it."

No one has ever called me brave.

"I-"

She could probably hear the quiver in my voice, "Tell me about that boy of yours, Kurt."

I told her what I would tell anyone. Kurt is the brave one. Kurt is amazing, his voice is from the stars, his eyes from the sun, his face from the moon.

Kurt is so, so beautiful.

"You're in love."

"What?"

"Love. If you could see yourself when you just say his name. It's love."

This woman was overwhelming.

"You're not very good at believing compliments are you."

"I guess not."

"Well I've only met you in the last two hours but I can already say that you are lovely, polite, obviously quite smart, caring, sensible, BRAVE, and so dearly in love."

I bit my lip because what else can you do when a complete stranger says the things that you have been waiting to hear your entire life. 

"I'll leave you to think on that. Here is some more coffee."

I was left alone at my table by the frosted window with a cup of the best coffee to think on everything.

Lovely, polite, smart, caring, sensible.

BRAVE.

In love.

My world had been turned upside down by one Romanian grandmother who was too insightful for her own good. 

I didn't know what to do but find Kurt, and never let go.

"I've got to go."

"Go see that Kurt, and do come back brave Blaine Anderson.

I will, no doubt that I will. 

The best coffee in the world, Braveness, and love. It was too much to think all at once.

•••

I woke up way earlier than was probably ever socially acceptable, but I didn't care, and I doubt Kurt would either.

I knocked quietly on his door and the opened it, revealing a a sight that twisted my heart. 

Kurt was sitting right by Pavarotti's cage, starring out the window at the sunrise like a captain's wife, with salt stains paving his cheeks.

"Kurt."

"Blaine Devon?!"

And then he was flying into me, sobbing out something close to-

"So worried, so worried, don't leave, so worried, so worried."

I stood the petting his back, his hair as he held me all too tight, but I didn't care. I rocked him back and forth on my heels until he was left sniffling my name like a broken record.

Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine, Blaine. 

"I'm here." I sat kissing his hair until the sun had fully risen and he was able to make sense of his words.

"Blaine- Please- what happened...."

I could only guess what he meant by that, so I began to speak.

I was like falling once I had started talking, after the jump there is no going back. It helped that I already told my life once in the past twelve hours. I couldn't look at him as I talked though, I couldn't watch him crumble at my words.

"My father had always been distant, he often was traveling and so I never got close to him. My mother was not as bad, but she wasn't the kind to ever hug or just give out praise, she was reserved and proper, and fought to make me the same. I had rules drilled into me constantly, one stray from the path resulted in being hit. I learned fast to mold into whatever they wished me to be. At school though, I let myself be. As soon as I realized who I was, I didn't try to hide it. I met a boy, Owen, the only other out gay boy, and we became inseparable friends. When I was in the eighth grade, we were dumb enough to attend a dance...as dates. Of course it didn't go down well, a couple of older boys thought it would be fun to push us around a little after the dance. It soon escalated to full out assault though, one of them found an old chair leg in the dumpster and from there we were beaten senseless. I ended up with two broken legs, broken ribs, a broken back, and a head injury that put me into a coma for a week. Owen didn't make it out of the hospital alive. There was no way of hiding my sexuality from my parents then, and once the nurses left the room, my father would whisper death threats into my ear. He told me that he had a reputation to uphold and that I was not going to ruin it. He would rather me be dead than have his reputation put down even the slightest. With my life shattered, I tried to suffocate myself when no one was watching, but a nurse found me and I was put under intense watch for who knows how long. After I left the hospital, the beatings seemed endless, I was always bruised and bleeding. And then my mother did the only thing in truly good to me that I can ever think of. Of course, it was probably just to get rid of me, because when she told me it was pretty much the last time she has ever spoken to me, but she sent me away to Dalton. At the beginning I was a recluse, shy, silent, and flinching at every sound. I was still living a nightmare. Then I joined the Warblers, and while I was still shy, silent, and hurting, it was heaven. I tried to go home as little as possible, but sometimes I was ordered home just to be my father's punching bag. At Christmas, though, I broke. It was the first time he had ever hurt me somewhere visible, someplace that wasn't hidden by starched uniforms. So I left, now I live with my aunt and cousin and see a therapist a million times a week."

Somewhere along the way Kurt had started fisting my shirt and chanting my name again.

"Kurt, it's ok."

"No, Blaine Devon, it's not."

"It's not perfect, it never will be. But it's ok because I know the worst is over. I don't expect to be magically well, for the panic attacks to just stop, or me be able to forget about freezing the world out. But it is ok in the most basic sense."

"How can you be so strong."

"I don't know. How can you be so beautiful even when you are sad." I felt his breath hitch against my neck.

Somehow my hands ended up on his face, his perfect, smooth skin like nothing I've ever felt before. 

"Kurt-"

"Kiss me?"

The sun shot fire through the sky as our lips pressed softly together. Static electricity was bouncing off my lungs, heart, until I couldn't think about anything but KURT. His hands reached up to tangle into my unruly curls and the kiss deepened into something indescribable. Only when I felt I might drown (though drowning in love didn't seem like the worst way to go) did I finally pull away, only to see Kurt's eyes slide open with such a fierce gaze. 

"Blaine Devon, don't ever get desperate enough to die."

"I promise I won't."

"I don't think I could ever survive without you."

I wanted to say I Love You, but instead I managed, "Boyfriends?"

"I think we practically have been for awhile now." He paused and then met my gaze again. I want to fix your past so bad I can't even put it into words. It hurts me like a dagger to think of all that you went through. I can't fix your past though, so will you let me help build you a great future?"

I met his lips with a softly building, searing kiss that took the world away and only left starlight.

"Kurt Evan Hummel you're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life."

•••

I have friends: Wes, David, Jeff, Trent, Nick, Thad, Carver, and Simon.

I have family: Aunt Jillian, Ollie, and I guess the Hummel-Hudsons.

I have a love: Kurt.

I don't expect my life to be magically perfect, but I know that it can be great.

I promise.


End file.
